The Girl, The Prince and the Fey
by mat528
Summary: Take one lonely girl, and one determined fey, and subtract one prince, and what do you get?   A special Author's note is inside.
1. Chapter 1

The Girl, the Prince and the Fey

Chapter One

**A/N: I originally published this story as "A Slightly Different Cinderella Story", but even I was confused at the direction I'd taken, so I have retooled the chapters, particularly 13 through 18, and redone the story as this with new material. Hopefully, it won't take too long to update all of the chapters.**

**For the record, CHAPTERS ONE THROUGH TWELVE ARE EXACTLY THE SAME. I felt those actually were OK; it was just the additional characters that have been deleted so that I can focus more on, well, the focus of the original plot I had concocted, which is the relationship between Cinderella, Trillion and the Prince.**

No flames, please, and a BIG thank you to all of the original reviewers! I appreciate your kind words, and I hope you'll give this story a try.

This work is copyrighted © 2007 by mat528, marsha twitty, and any subsidiaries. Any _original characters_ are the property of mat528 and any partners or subsidiaries, and must be used by permission.

**Any similarity of _publicly recognizable characters_ is unintentional, and no infringement is intended. I do not own any publicly recognizable characters exclusively, only this story.**

**I am making no profit off of this work.**

Cinderella trudged through the forest, the heat of the day finally reaching its peak. She wiped the sweat off of her brow as she went about her daily task of gathering fruit for a pie she would make. She sighed, remembering a happier time when she walked with her father. Her hand rested in his as he taught her about the different types of plants and trees.

"Remember, Cinda," he said, using his nickname for her, "every tree has a name, and therefore, a purpose. You must always respect nature in all of its forms."

Cinderella nodded, her seven-year-old ears focused on his every word. "What about people, Papa?" she asked, "and what about animals, too?"

"You should never be mean to them, Cinda, no matter what they may do to you," her father answered. "Although people cannot change, and animals will act as they will, we can change how we respond to them. You can rise above them, and find the good in everything, if you look hard enough," her father instructed her. He grabbed her hand, saying, "now, my little cherub, let us race home!" Cinderella smiled, her hand in his, hearing his laughing all the way as they ran home.

Her mind returned to the present as she thought, _oh, Papa, if only you knew how they felt about you._

She thought about her life in the ten years since he'd died. It had been harsh, as one by one, her freedoms were taken away by her Stepmother and her stepsisters, but she'd never complained in memory of what her father had told her. She tried to rise above every situation, and tried to find the good values in everyone.

It was with this attitude that she sang, rather than grumbled in anger, as she worked. She made sure that the berries she gathered were the freshest, plumpest ones she could find. As she bent to pick some red ones that were at the peak of ripeness, she saw a small, red Cardinal on the ground.

"Oh!" She cried, picking it up gently. She could tell by the way it struggled to move that its wing was slightly damaged. "You are hurt!" Cinderella exclaimed. "I think, though, that it isn't too bad. I should be able to set your wing in the right position so that you can fly."

She brightened as she saw the bird raise its head and slowly flap its injured wing.

"Here you go," she said merrily, gently placing the bird in a nest on a nearby tree branch. "Now, don't go flying just yet. Rest in your nest awhile longer, and then, you will be able to fly in a day or two."

The bird lay down as if it understood every word she said. Cinderella gathered her berries and whistled on the way home. Had she turned in the bird's nest's direction, she would have seen a shimmering light which grew brighter and brighter, then disappeared.

"Cinderella, you wretched girl!" Cinderella's stepmother called the next day.

"Yes, Stepmother?" Cinderella's cheerful voice asked. She stood in front of her Stepmother, attempting to courtsey.

"When will you ever learn to courtsey properly in the presence of your betters?" The old woman snapped. "I suppose, though," She said dryly, "that is what one should expect from a country girl. Straighten up!"

Cinderella did as she was told.

"Go back out and get some apples for an apple pie for me and my daughters, and _don't _be late getting back!" She yelled.

Cinderella did a perfect bow, and left. Once she reached the grove on the meager part of land her family now had, she picked several red apples. She eyed them longingly, then snatched one from the basket she had put them in.

"Pardon me, those look awfully good, and I'm starving something awful…" a voice said behind her. Cinderella turned around, and saw an old beggar, his haggard black cloak tattered and torn.

"Where did you come from?" She cried, astonished. "I could have sworn I was alone."

"I am not surprised," the old man said, chuckling. "I am very quiet generally. The old man repeated his request: "if it is not too much trouble, I would love to have an apple."

Cinderella handed one to him, smiling. "It is not too much to ask. I am grateful for the company."

She sat in front of a large oak tree. After a moment, the old man joined her. Both shared a companionable silence, then the old man spoke. "Live here on your own, do you?" he said.

Cinderella giggled. "In the forest?" she teased. "No. Alone, hardly, though sometimes I wish…" She grew wistful.

"What?" the old beggar asked. He seemed to be very interested in her response.

"Well, it doesn't matter," the girl replied, waving him off. "I am with my family: my Stepmother and Stepsisters. I am in a room below the main house."

"More likely a dungeon, I'll wager," the old man whispered.

"What?" Cinderella asked, straining to hear him.

He shook his head, saying, "I ramble too much." He tried again. "So, you are with your family, eh? Seems like you are old enough to be on your own…"

Cinderella considered that statement before responding. "Well, I could get some employment, I suppose, but who would take care of my family?"

The old man snorted. "It seems to me that they could probably take care of themselves. It would serve them right to have some hard labor. Gives character, you know."

Cinderella looked at him fully. Although he had a tanned and weathered face, the eyes still had a youth in their deep blue depths which defied his age.

"I don't know where you came from, or how you know about my family—if, in fact, you really do—but I think you should leave," Cinderella ordered him. She indicated the basket beside her. "Take as many apples as you want."

"I'm sorry," the old man apologized, removing his hood to reveal white hair. "I spoke out of turn, and made you angry. That was not my intention. You are right, they should be taken care of, if they really need it." With a strength that belied his age, he helped her up, then got up in such a way that they faced each other. "But have you ever stopped to consider that maybe they are just using you for their own selfish purpose? Maybe if you did something that would benefit you in a non-selfish way, like, oh, finding your heart's desire, maybe it would actually galvanize them to do something better for themselves?"

Cinderella thought about the old man's words. "You may have a point," she conceded. Picking up the basket, she told him, "I will think on what you have said." She turned to wave goodbye to the man, but as quickly as he had been there, he was gone. She frowned, wondering how he could have left so fast, but hearing one of her stepsisters in the distance calling for her, she ran back to the manor.

Some distance away from Cinderella's goings on, a finely dressed man on a white stallion was looking forward to being home. He could hardly wait to taste the roast pheasant that would be prepared in honor of his arrival. His personal chef, whom everyone called "Lady Rachel", was capable of tossing together even the most innocuous and bland spices, and making something truly wonderful. The finely dressed man dismounted and handed the reins to a young stable boy, whom he did not know the name of.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

**Original Author's note: Sorry for a short chapter, and for the slow way this story is starting out, but it will become more humorous and adventurous soon!**

**This chapter is unedited; it is the same as in "A Slightly Different Cinderella Story".**

"Your majesty!" the stable boy exclaimed. "I had no idea you were returning so soon. Did you have a great trip?" He led the mare into the stable and gave him some water. The Prince followed.

"No," the Prince said dejectedly. His brown curly hair blew in the wind. "And do you want to know why?"

"By all means," the stable boy said.

"I am approaching a score of years, and I have never had an adventure! Oh, I admit, I've been involved in a joust or two, but there is always something missing!"

"Like what?" the stable boy prompted, his ears twitching with interest.

The Prince stared at him for a long moment before replying. "I don't know if I should tell you…"

"Bartholemew," the stable boy supplied.

"Ah, you have a magic talent! I was going to ask your name since I am telling a confidence," the Prince said, smiling. "I think," he said to Bartholemew, "my greatest adventure will be found when I have kissed a girl!"

"You might not want adventures of that kind as much as you think, my Prince," Bartholemew said. He gave the horse some hay and walked out of the stable. The Prince followed; his dark brown eyes lighted up with mischief.

"So, you know all about it, eh, my servant?" the Prince asked, intrigued.

"Actually...no, but I have heard some things, and I know that when most people, even royal ones, receive what they wish for, sometimes they realize that what they wish for is not always what they should have," Bartholemew answered.

"Perhaps, but I shall be the judge of that," the Prince said, adding, "You interest me, stable boy. I would love to speak to you some more."

"I'm sure we will speak again," Bartholemew said cryptically. The Prince was oblivious to Bartholemew's tone and pointed look. He strode off to the castle, thinking about the possibility of meeting and wooing maidens.

Bartholemew shook his head, walking off, then disappearing. He reappeared in front of a small house nestled in the woods. Removing his peasant's gear, the stable boy became a young man. He rapped on the door of the house and walked in. The house, which from all appearances seemed small and quite common, with its straw roof and outer stone walls, was not as common inside. The furnishings were comfortable and well appointed. The young man walked on to an old man, seated in the living quarters by an enormous fireplace. The old man had a long face, with a cleft in his chin. His brown eyes belied the secrets of many ages in them, and an intelligence which spanned many years. He seemed quite at home by the fireplace, and yet, also seemed as if he could find another home just as easily without giving the cozy house he occupied another thought.

"So, you have returned," the old man said, not looking at the young man. "Have you observed the maiden?"

"Yes," the young man answered. "I think I can help her. She seems worthy."

"Then, by all means, do whatever is necessary to complete your first mission," the old man instructed. The younger man nodded, leaving the house.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This chapter is slightly edited from the original version, but not too much. I have added some additional dialogue between Prince Edward and his Father. Other than that, it is pretty much like the original. Enjoy, no flames, and reviews are welcome.**

CHAPTER THREE

The Prince came into the throne room, as was his custom, to greet his parents after a joust. "Mother," he addressed the Queen, "Father," he greeted the King. As he was prepared to bow to his Mother, the Queen held out her hands to her son. He came over; taking them in his bigger hands, then caught the female ruler's speculative look.

"All right, Mother," the Prince said, releasing her hands. "What is on your mind?"

The Queen smiled a benign smile as if to say, "nothing."

The Prince was not fooled for a moment; he waited patiently, his brown eyes measuring his mother's gold ones. At forty, the Queen still had a fiery temper and a mischievous streak a mile wide. She was the Queen of Intrigue; the Prince wondered why his Mother had chosen to marry his father and not gone into being a scribe working on the latest gossip parchment everyone seemed to be talking about.

His Mother still looked resplendent in her royal robes; they were a dark purple shade today, trimmed in white fur on the cuff and on the collar, which sat high on her neck. Her hair was a medium shade of red, and it was artfully arranged in an upsweep, with curling tendrils hanging down to her shoulders. The crown she wore was a simple gold one, with a single matching amethyst stone in the middle. His mother's face was round like his, though his lips were closer to his father's.

"You can't get around me, Mother," the Prince warned. "I know you are hatching something in that head of yours."

Behind the Queen, the King spoke up, saying, "Give it up, wife. Our son is too smart for us, and you were never good at hiding your emotions…at least not for very long."

The Queen regarded her husband, still entranced by his regal bearing, his straight brown hair, and his hazel eyes. He complemented her in every way. Where the Queen was outgoing, he was a little introverted; where she was mischievous, he was no prankster, but serious and straightforward. The Queen tended to ramble at times, particularly when she was caught in an embarrassing situation; the King tended to get right to the point.

One of the instances where they were of one accord was in their attire. Although they wore royal robes and crowns to identify themselves to their kingdom, they did not believe in the opulence which sometimes showed itself in the dress styles of royalty in other kingdoms. The King was, in fact, dressed in a very simple plain chocolate brown robe matching the Queen's style. His crown, like his wife's, was gold, with two stones in its center—one matching his clothes; the other the color of the primary hue of the kingdom's flag—red.

"I repeat, what is occurring that I should be aware of?" the Prince asked.

"Well, my son," the King said, turning to his son, "there is to be a festive gathering in your honor."

"In my honor?" the Prince repeated. "I have been on missions before…and also jousts and you have never celebrated them."

The Queen faltered, considering, "Well, son," she said, "you've never returned from jousting with the Prince of Benethia before. He is, they have said, a very formidable warrior, and you bested him with little effort. That alone is worth a celebration."

"Uh, huh…" the Prince said, waiting for the other boot to drop. "Why do I believe there is something more to this?"

"There _is _one more thing," the King responded. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder and asked, "Tell me, my son…have you given consideration to your future?"

"My…future?" Edward asked; then he answered confidently, "Of course I have!"

The Queen added, "What your Father is saying is: have you thought about your future as a Monarch?"

"Well, a little," Edward replied. "What has that got to do with anything?" he asked curiously.

"You are past the age to be married, considering that most people in our kingdom are wedded by the time they are eighteen," the King said.

"It is only almost two years…" the Prince complained. "Why all the urgency?"

"Because, dear," the Queen said, "in all of the other kingdoms, the royal sons and daughters are already married. It is unseemly for a royal heir to not have a wife! You are almost twenty, after all."

"Mother," the Prince argued, "I have not even been with a Princess yet. I have not practiced the art of courting or currying favor amongst Princesses or Duchesses."

"Hear us out, Edward," the King half-requested, half-commanded. "You need only whisper words of love into their ears, and most women fall into your waiting arms."

"It takes more than that, my dear," the Queen admonished, giving her husband a look. To the Prince, she advised, "Tell them about what you know of philosophy, literature, and the arts. Impress them with your intelligence…praise their looks also, as well as their intelligence."

"It is my understanding…" the Prince commented… "that most tittering females in search of marriage to a royal heir have no intelligence. All of that seems to fly out the window when they become enamored of good looks and a fortune that could choke a horse!" He paced as he said, "Besides, how am I to meet any females in our kingdom? Am I to waltz up to their parents and say, 'hello…I am Prince Edward John Henry the Third, and I am looking for a bride'?"

"Actually, we have a simpler method," the King said. "We have decided to throw at least three balls in rapid succession to give you adequate time to choose your bride." The Prince stopped and looked at his father with fear in his eyes.

"What?" Prince Edward cried, horrified. "I just admitted I was not ready to woo_ one_ female, let alone a whole_ herd _of them! I shall be a laughingstock in my own kingdom if you force me to go through with this!"

"Nonsense, dear," the Queen replied airily, waving the Prince's protests away. "You will be educated in what to do by our greatest advisors and teachers. We're not having the event for another three weeks! You will be ready by then!"

"And if I do not find a wife?" the Prince asked, crossing his arms.

"Let me issue a choice," the King responded, staring at Edward. "Either you find your bride by the conclusion of the third event, or you will wed one of our choosing!"

"That is your final say, Father…Mother?" the Prince queried hotly.

Both the King and Queen nodded.

"So be it," the Prince said, "but when I have dishonored the kingdom with my lack of social graces"—he pointed to his chest for emphasis as he shouted his next words—"don't come running to me!" Edward stormed out of the throne room, heading toward the stables.

"That did not go well," the King muttered, looking at this wife. "Are you quite content, now? We have alienated our son!" the ruler complained.

"He will come around to our way of thinking," the Queen spoke with total confidence. "Once he sees the bevy of beauties we have and will choose for him, he cannot help but fall for one of them."

The King crossed to the window, staring outside at the Prince. "I hope so," the King murmured with less confidence than he tried to project.

XXXX

The Prince yelled out to the stable boy he had seen previously. "Bartholemew?" he called. "Where are you? I wish to ride immediately!"

As if on cue, the young boy emerged from the stables, the reins in his hand, leading a beige-colored mare. "Is there trouble in paradise?" the stable boy joked. Catching the Prince's withering glance, Bartholemew said, "Anything I can help with?"

"My parents wish to throw me a ball…" the Prince said, dejected. "Three, actually." He let Bartholemew help him onto the horse's back.

"And this upsets you because…?" Bartholemew asked, regarding the junior ruler.

"I don't know anything about charming a young maid," the Prince grumbled. "My forte is in jousting and sword playing! What care I about marriage? I am perfectly capable of ruling a kingdom on my own!"

The stable boy handed the reigns to the Prince as he said thoughtfully, "Perhaps you can rule on your own, but it may be advantageous to have the counsel of a wife in matters you are not an expert in."

"But I don't know how to dance with a maid, or talk to a maid, or kiss one…remember?" the Prince reminded the stable boy. "I might have seemed eager when we last talked, but in truth I am terrified!"

"You fear you will embarrass your parents," Bartholemew said knowingly, "and by extension, the kingdom."

"Yes," the Prince breathed, wondering again if the stable boy knew the thoughts of others.

"Do not be," Bartholemew said softly. "You will receive the proper training, and when the time comes, you will know what to do."

Prince Edward felt an overwhelming peace fall over him. He knew that the stable boy spoke the truth, and that, for some reason which the junior sovereign did not totally comprehend, he could trust Bartholemew's words. He also felt that he had a date with destiny, as if the stars had calculated this moment for many years and decided the significant path the Prince was due to embark on had to do with these balls. The royal heir thumped the sides of the horse and took off, riding across his lands.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This chapter introduces Magdalena and Griselda, the step sisters of Cinderella. It is not edited from the "Slightly Different..." story, so if you read it in that story, I'll see you in the next chapter.**

CHAPTER FOUR

Magdalena gazed outside the window of the chateau her mother and her older sister, Griselda, lived in. There were, of course, others living within the chateau, but they were of no consequence. The younger sister let her mind drift, wondering: "I wonder what the Prince is doing today?"

Her older sister, Griselda, entered the room, saying, "Who cares?" She went to get a dress out of the closet, carelessly tossing it on the bed. "The only important thing is who he is doing it with, and how much is he spending on her?"

Magdalena inwardly seethed; so jealous was she when she read the latest gossip scroll about the Prince's exploits. Why, from the way the journalist Sir Ebert of Gothelaine reported, one would think the Prince slept with every girl from their tiny little kingdom to the huge Americas she had learned about in school. It was then that her thoughts flew to—what was her name-oh, yes, her stepsister, Cinderella. Magdalena had always hated many women, but most of all, her stepsister. As the youngest daughter in her mother's family, she thought she would be blissfully happy, just like the scrolls said. But unfortunately, things got progressively worse when she, her older sister, and her mother moved into the chateau with Cinderella and her Father. Cinderella's father talked of nothing but his only daughter incessantly. In the year they were all together before her adoptive father's death, Magdalena tried to please him, but it seemed that he only had eyes for his natural daughter. Cinderella always went on walks with her father, the latter always swearing he would get around to teaching Cinderella the social graces and proper things a lady did; Magdalena had to take lessons by her mother's insistence in deportment, knitting and sewing, playing the harpsichord (which she detested), and, of all the embarrassing things she had to do or learn, she had to dance with Griselda when she learned how to waltz because her father (let alone any other man), was seldom or nary around.

Magdalena, or Dalena, as she was sometimes referred to, even resented it when her mother yelled at Cinderella. She knew Cinderella must have hated it, though her stepsister never complained, but at least her mother _noticed_ her stepsister when she was yelling at Cinderella. Her mother hardly ever paid any attention to her, focusing instead on Griselda, grooming her for a Prince! Why her mother did that, Magdalena would never know…for one thing: Griselda was as fat as she was ugly. She had the plain, brunette colored hair the latest scrolls claimed was ordinary; her lips were too red, as was her usually red hued face. She had the temperament of a sour faced troll, and the voice of a woman with a head cold. When Cinderella was doing whatever and not around, Griselda took great delight in ordering Magdalena around. It was the latest order…to make breakfast…that had Magdalena fuming. She couldn't even boil water. How was she to cook for her mother and older sister? Fortunately, Cinderella returned later, she said from picking apples for a pie she would bake, and made breakfast.

The breakfast was delicious, Dalena had to inwardly admit, but she chose instead to eat quietly, snorting when Cinderella had said "good morning" to her. When she thought she wasn't being observed Magdalena would steal glances at her slightly younger step sister, taking in her brownish blonde hair, her perfectly formed pink lips, her evenly tanned skin, and her curvaceous figure. Dalena had none of those. Every night, when she looked in the mirror, she beheld a very light, flaxen haired girl with no hips or chest to speak of; a very tall, emaciated looking, gangly figure, and very pale skin, which seemed to flow into her hair (or was it her hair flowing into it?)

The only thing Dalena took exception to on her body, besides her long, yet comely face, were her light blue eyes. Her eyes were what the beauty scrolls pronounced as being the thing all men craved. Her step sister's eyes, thank heaven, were a light, sea green, and Dalena could not remember any of the beauty scrolls praising those. Magdalena tried pretend talking to the Prince in front of her mirror, then stopped as she heard her mousy voice: another grievous sin lain at her door that she wished she could hex on Cinderella. She did not have the cultured, sophisticated sounding, British accent her step sister had.

When sleep took hold of the younger sister, Dalena dreamed of the Prince, his arms encircling her, his perfectly formed lips pronouncing that she was the most beautiful woman on Earth, and that she would be his one-and-only forevermore. When the cock crowed each morning, however, Dalena woke up even more unhappy, even more cross with the world.

"What makes you think he is doing anything with anyone?" Dalena shot back to her older sister. She continued to morosely stare outside of the window.

"The scrolls we receive each day from the kingdom of Gothelaine proclaim it to be so," Griselda said haughtily. "Besides, the other psychiatric scrolls from the kingdom of Ruth say that all men have the innate desire to sew their royal oats, whatever that means!"

Dalena angrily turned from the window, shouting at Grissy, "The Prince is a virgin, I am sure of it!"

"A _virgin?" _Grissy retorted. "At _his _age?" She selected another dress from her closet, saying, "He is a worldly wise Prince, who has probably ravished many a maid in all of the jousts he has won, and I don't just mean by kissing one, either!"

Dalena crossed to Grissy, closing the space between them. "Take that back!" She ordered.

"Or, what?" Griselda challenged, her fat fingers closing into fists.

"Or I will thrash you, sister or not, for saying that about our Prince!" Dalena shouted.

It was unclear who threw the first punch. All Cinderella saw when she came into the main bedroom to dress her stepsisters was that the bedroom looked like a cyclone had hit it; Dalena's hair was unkempt and hanging in strings down her back, and Griselda's hair was standing out from all angles, her robe slightly torn. Both sisters were sporting cuts and bruises, and glaring at each other.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" A voice shrieked from the door's entrance. All three girls turned to face the Stepmother, hands on her hips, fully coiffed and dressed, and totally livid about the mess she saw.

Both sisters pointed in unison at each other, saying, "She started it!"

"Cinderella…" the Stepmother coldly said, "perhaps you can say what actually happened."

Cinderella looked at both of her step sisters, Griselda's look defiantly challenging her to say that Grissy started the fight; Magdalena's eyes pleading silently not to give anyone away.

"I…I am not sure, Stepmother," Cinderella said. "I wasn't here, and I didn't see any sign of who might have started the brawl."

"Of course you didn't see it," the Stepmother sneered. "You are always late for everything." She fixed her step daughter with an icy glare, saying, "If you had been here, you could have prevented such a thing from happening. As it is, since my angels are both messed up royally, you shall have to clean not only this mess, but help gather hot water and healing herbs from the garden to clean their wounds."

"MOTHER!" Griselda exclaimed. "Those herbs _smell!" _The Stepmother lifted a restraining hand, continuing, "And you shall have to bathe the parts of them that are not bruised, nor bleeding before dressing them!"

Cinderella executed a sloppy curtsey before departing. Later, as she bathed Magdalena and Griselda had gone downstairs looking none the worse for wear, Dalena said, "thank you for not telling."

"Telling what?" Cinderella asked. "'Tis true you were fighting, but I did come in after it had started, so I know not who threw the first punch."

Dalena snorted again as she left the tub. Cinderella handed her a towel, brushing her hair as she dried her body. The younger sister dressed as Cinderella helped adjust her hooks and dress closures. She arranged Dalena's hair in a very artful hair style. Magdalena waved her away, saying, "go. Do whatever it is that you do. I am going for a walk."

Cinderella bowed awkwardly, leaving the chamber. Dalena went out into the spring air, her long, thin legs taking her to, as Fate would have it, the location of Prince Edward.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

**A/N: None this time, but I should be back next time.**

Magdalena walked through the forest, determined to get away from the carriage wreck that was Griselda, and the perfect beauty that was Cinderella. She wished she had her horse, Nathan, but he had been sold last year by her mother—taxes had to be paid, her mother had claimed. All Magdalena knew was that Nathan had been her only friend in the world that she could really talk to. Oh, she had her girlfriends in school, but they only talked about boys and the Prince, and while she loved talking about Prince Edward, there were other things she longed to talk about, like the latest traveling carnival, and the musician Peter of Frampshire. He played a revolutionary instrument called the drum, and she longed to let herself go, playing it along side of him.

She could imagine her mother fainting at that. "Ladies-in-training do not play vulgar instruments like that," her mother would say. Magdalena used to tell Nathan about her desire, and the horse would neigh and accept the carrots she fed to him. If she showed her mother, or her older sister, her drawings of the Prince or Sir Peter, they would snatch them away, telling her to clean her charcoal soaked fingers. "Ladies-in-training always have clean hands, and if they do lower themselves to painting, they _only _use oils, like Da Vinci, or Michelangelo," her mother would pronounce. It was a wonder ladies-in-training did anything fun, Magdalena thought, if they didn't drum, shouting at the top of their lungs, or if they did not sketch life.

So deep in thought was Dalena that she did not notice the Prince's horse jumping over the stump she was about to cross over.

"Watch out!" She heard a male voice call. Dalena's shock was evident when she beheld Prince Edward in all of his glory on his mare. She stepped back just in time as his horse cleared the tree stump—but apparently, Edward did not. Dalena saw Edward fall promptly on his back from the saddle. She ran over to the junior ruler, crying, "Are you all right?"

Prince Edward sat up, blinking several times, shaking his head to clear the stars from it. "What…happened?" He asked slowly. He then shook his head again, as his thoughts became clearer. "Oh…now I remember."

"Are you hurt?" Magdalena asked, waving a handkerchief over his face to fan him.

"Only my pride," Edward muttered, adding, "Stupid horse." He looked in the direction his horse had taken, saying, "Great! That is the third I have lost this month!"

"Perhaps he will return when he gets hungry, or thirsty," Magdalena observed.

"Maybe," Edward agreed. As if his horse heard both of them, she returned. Magdalena crossed over to him, stroking her.

The horse neighed. Magdalena laughed a surprisingly deep, throaty sound. "What is his name?" She queried. Edward got up, rubbing his arse, saying, "_Her_ name is Naomi. She was a present from my grandmother, Naomi."

"That makes sense," Magdalena said, laughing again.

"You find all of this amusing?" Prince Edward asked, drawing himself to his full height, which was about two inches taller than Magdalena.

"Never," Magdalena lied. Try as she might, she could not keep a straight face, and guffawed. After a moment of staring at the strange girl, Edward joined her, commenting, "I guess it was pretty funny!" He reached into his pocket, pulling out some dried apple pieces to feed to Naomi.

"Oh, may I…?" Magdalena asked. Edward nodded, handing them to her. Magdalena held out her hand. Naomi sniffed her hand, and the apple pieces, and after a quick moment, her mouth took the pieces gratefully. Dalena smiled as the horse waited expectantly for more. Prince Edward gave some more pieces to Dalena, who repeated the feeding process.

"Naomi likes you," Edward observed. "She doesn't like too many people."

"Why not?" Magdalena queried.

Prince Edward thought a moment, saying, "I don't really know…she just doesn't." His eyes drifted to the sky all of a sudden. Noting the position of the sun, the Prince climbed back on Naomi's saddle. "I am sorry; I must go. I have an appointment to keep, and if I do not make it, my mother shall not give me a moment's peace about it."

"I understand," Magdalena said reluctantly.

Prince Edward rode off; Magdalena smiled, for although she was reluctant to see the Prince go, she was happy that she had, at least, gotten to speak to him. Her friends in school would _never _believe her! She walked home, happy for the first time in weeks.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

**A/N: The step-family to Cinderella shows its true colors in this longer chapter.**

**This one is slightly edited, but if you read the original when it was posted here under ..."Slightly Different...", you don't need to re-read this one.**

**BTW: I'll give you a cookie if you can guess the significance of the town of Casterborous (which I don't own).**

Dalena found Cinderella cleaning the fireplace when she reached home that day; her step sister's lovely face was smudged with soot. She secretly was glad that her step sister looked the worse for wear, but didn't voice her opinion. Cinderella stood to admire her handiwork, then turned, aware that someone was behind her.

"Was there something you wanted?" She asked Dalena, in a slightly breathless voice.

Dalena took a rag and, to Cinderella's surprise, started cleaning. "Prince Edward…what do you know about him?" Dalena asked.

Cinderella thought for a long moment, not at all sure what to say. She was so shocked that Magdalena would trouble her for anything, except to issue orders. The other few times Cinderella had tried to make any kind of conversation, she was rewarded for her efforts with stony silence. "I really don't know much," she honestly admitted to Dalena, "except that he seems nice."

"_Nice _is not how I would describe him," Dalena commented. "He is very…intense, I think. You would not know of such things…"

"I know what 'intense' means," Cinderella said, frowning. "What I don't know is why that is significant."

"Intenseness is where passion begins," Magdalena said softly, switching the cleaning rag to the other hand. "Haven't you ever wanted…I don't know…a man who would be full of passion, who'd sweep you off your feet? A man who wouldn't be concerned so much with rules and regulations, especially about ladies?"

"I never thought about it much," Cinderella told her step sister. Dalena stopped cleaning, staring at her. For a moment, both girls regarded each other. "Still," Cinderella mused, "I would not want to be bored with a man. I spend so much of my time alone, cooking…cleaning. I have to invent ways to entertain myself. Sometimes, I pretend that the mop is a man, and I often dance with it."

Dalena's ears perked with interest. "Any man, or the Prince?" She queried.

"Mostly the Prince," Cinderella said. Dalena handed the cleaning rag back to her step sister, her eyes frosting over. She felt the stab of jealousy as she turned away.

"I don't know why I came in here," Dalena said frostily. She walked out of the room, leaving a bewildered Cinderella behind.

As she worked on another side of the fireplace, the Little Cinder Girl, as she was nick named by her family, thought about her conversation with Dalena. What did she _really _want from a man? Did she want a homebody…someone who would be good around the house? She violently shook her head at that thought. Did she want someone who would be adventurous…someone who would travel great distances, and who would view life with the curious nature of a child, yet contain a measure of maturity? Would he be one who wanted children, or one who wanted only a wife? Would he be educated in the sciences, or have the soul of a poet, or a musician? The more Cinderella thought about it, the more she came to the conclusion that she really didn't know what she wanted, at least not on the surface, but she knew that in her soul, her mate had been decided for her. She realized that when he did dance with her, and took her in his arms, she would know on some level that he was hers, and hers alone.

XXXXXX

Across the wood, in the magic glen, a young male was having similar thoughts. The man the Prince knew as Bartholemew walked with the old man he had visited earlier in the cottage in the woods.

"Max, have you ever been in love?" he asked his older mentor.

"You mean, our brand of love, or love for the ones we help?" Max asked.

"Any brand of love," the young man asked. "I have heard of it, but I don't understand it. Why do people write sonnets about it, and why do the songs proclaim it more than any other emotion?"

"It is the greatest emotion in the universe," Max declared. "More so than hate, or fear, or even just simple affection. It controls and influences all good feelings amongst all beings. That is why it is so important."

"What makes our type of love different, then?" Max's young pupil wanted to know.

Max thought a moment before saying, "We inspire the emotion by our mystic powers, but our charges, humans that is…they often find it on their own. Our dust stirs up the dormant emotion in some, but it takes the strength of their love for each other to complete the emotional cycle."

"Is there a way our kind can know the humans' kind of love?" the young man asked.

Max peered at him, querying, "Why all of these questions about love?"

"Just curious," Max's student responded, shrugging.

"There have been some cases of our kind being exposed to human love," Max said slowly.

"What does it feel like?" the young man pressed.

"It is much like the sky when a thunder storm brews," Max said. "It develops slowly, as clouds developing on the horizon do. Then, it can grip you with such intensity, you feel as though you are in a hurricane. But after that, there is a calmness, and peace that settles over you, especially when it becomes clear that you love the other. It proceeds in phases, you see."

"There are different types of it?" the young man asked.

Max nodded. "It affects different beings in different ways," Max confirmed. "Usually, our kind perceives it more intensely, because we are connected with so many more forces of energy than humans are. For example, when we allow ourselves to, we can see the auras that humans put out. That is often times how we screen out the good humans from the evil ones. It is how you knew the maid you are to help is worthy. Humans have not that talent. That is why they confuse love with other emotions, and don't always find the ideal soul mate."

The young man nodded, digesting every word Max said. Max continued: "when you love someone, you will know it, because that being will become a part of you. Your soul mate's aura will shine brighter than any other. It may start off as something else, like friendship or attraction, but it will blossom over time into something that will complete you…something that will make you want to nourish your time with your mate…something that will entice you to put her happiness and well being above your own."

"I wonder that I will ever find something like that," Max's student said wryly.

"Perhaps," Max told his young charge. He regarded the young man for a moment, saying, "Now, then…what's happening with Cinderella and her family?"

XXXXXX

Griselda was singing at the top of her voice, sounding for all the world like a banshee.

"No, no, no, Griselda!" Her mother cried. "You must sing in gentile tones, the tones of a lady!"

"I am loud…that is my nature," Griselda said. "If the Prince doesn't like it, then he will have to adjust."

"That is not the way of things!" Cinderella's step mother shouted. As Griselda and her mother got into a shouting match, Magdalena sighed. Downstairs, Cinderella was humming her own song, totally oblivious to the goings on upstairs, as she scrubbed and cleaned.

There was a knock at the door. Cinderella jumped up to open it. "Yes?" She asked.

"A message from the King," a squire said, giving Cinderella an appreciative glance. He handed the parchment to her. She took the parchment from the squire. When the squire left, Cinderella ran up the stairs to her step mother.

"Cinderella!" the step mother snapped. "There had better be a good reason for you disturbing our music lesson!" The woman noticed the parchment in the girl's hand with the royal seal etched upon it. "What is that you have in your hand? Why did you not give it to me earlier?" The step mother asked.

"It arrived just now, Madame," Cinderella said. Her step mother held out her hand expectantly. Cinderella handed the parchment over, watching as the step mother read it silently.

_To All Eligible Maidens and their Families:_

_You are, hereby, invited to a ball in the honor of his Majesty, Prince Edward's triumphant return to our kingdom of Aramathea by the royal request of King Edward, and Queen Isabelle._

_The ball will be held at the King's domain within 30 days on the eve of June the Third. It is by invitation only. The event shall commence at 9 in the eve, and continue until the wee hours of the morn. Formal dress is required. _

_Only the most gentile of manners will be tolerated. Guests are advised they are to be practiced in the art of waltzing, and the dance styles of the Kingdoms of Madea, Casteroborus, and Pulmonya. _

_Transportation shall be provided to this event. May the blessings of Heaven be upon this event in this year of Our Lord. _

"Great news, my daughters!" She cried.

"What is it, Mother?" Griselda asked, not in the least excited.

"There is to be a ball within a month's time in honor of the Prince," the step mother said. "All maidens and their families are to attend!"

Magdalena's eyes widened. She then calculated all the possibilities as she imagined seeing the Prince again.

"Perhaps we can use this as the opportunity to seek the Prince's favors," the step mother said, a calculating look in her eyes. "He is not married, and I have a feeling there is more than just the celebration of his return on the agenda."

"Whatever do you mean, Mother?" Griselda asked.

"Do you not see, child?" the step mother said. "He is twenty…already two years past the marriageable age. He should have been with a wife by the age of eighteen. That means, the King and Queen will be using his return as an excuse to select a wife! I am sure of it! This parchment would not have sought 'guests who are practiced in the art of waltzing', and 'the most gentile of manners' if they were only celebrating a return!"

The step mother flew to her armoire, selecting gowns, and tossing them on the bed. "Now," she said, "we must all be the best in manners, culture, education…I want the Prince to notice no one but my two, lovely daughters!"

"What about me?" Cinderella asked. The step mother pretended not to hear; she selected some berry dye for makeup, and some herbal cream jars from her dresser.

"What about me, step mother?" Cinderella pressed. "Can I not go?"

Cinderella's eyes misted at the uproarious laughter directed at her. "Won't that be a kick in the head?" Griselda mocked. "Cinderella, our sooty step sister, going to the ball. What shall you wear? Your old cleaning dress? Or perhaps, your ball gown…oh! I forgot…you have NOTHING but your cleaning dress!" Both she and Magdalena laughed again.

"Well…" Cinderella mildly protested, "It says 'all eligible maidens and their families'. Am I not a maiden?"

The step mother's cruel eyes raked over her step daughter. Her hatred at Cinderella's beauty and good nature sparked to life. She glanced at her daughters, silently willing them to be quiet.

Turning back to Cinderella, the step mother said coldly, "Indeed, you are…and you are of marriageable age. I shall strike a bargain with you. _If_ you complete your chores by a month's time, and _if_ you can find something suitable to wear, and _if_ you can train in manners, dancing, and engaging conversation, I see no reason why you can't go…"

"Oh, thank you, step mother, thank you so much!" Cinderella cried happily. She ran down to her room, excited at the possibility of leaving the house, even if it was only for a little while.

"Mother!" Griselda cried. "Have you lost your mind?"

The older woman fingered the parchment, saying, "No, I have not. I _did _say 'if'. It is amazing how the chores can pile up around here. As for the training, where would she find the coin for it? And even if someone could assist her, how would she find suitable garments?"

"Ahh…" Magdalena said. "You are brilliant, Mother." The trio laughed at the cruel joke they would play on the hapless girl.

"Now, my doves, we have a lot of work to do," the step mother said. "You must be trained properly in manners, diction, and dancing. I want absolutely _nothing _to spoil that evening!"


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

**A/N: At long last, Cinderella and her fairy meet! Thanks to those who alerted me or said my story was their favorite!**

**Reviews are welcome.**

**This chapter is unedited.**

The next three weeks passed without incident. The kingdom buzzed with all of the latest news about the upcoming ball; dresses were sold out as soon as the dressmakers could create or import them. The beauty parchments and scrolls all proclaimed that subtlety was all the rage, and classes for the latest dance styles from Madea, Casteroborus and Pulmonya were sold out. Griselda went on diets and lessons in diction and singing; Magdalena learned to assert herself; she used every beauty trick in the parchments to enhance her willowy frame. Dalena even got Cinderella to help her, though she rarely paid complements to her.

The step mother was the only one who never changed dramatically throughout the proceedings. The once harsh taskmistress got even more stringent in the regimen she provided for her daughters. She also took great care to impose more duties on Cinderella so that every evening, instead of singing softly or staring out at the stars, the girl would fall into bed, totally exhausted. It was during the times she fell asleep that she would dream of a man whose face she could not see, but whose voice made her heart sing. He would touch her tenderly, stroking her hair. When he did, she would close her eyes, perfectly content to have him touch her forever.

The dream always ended the same way, however, and she'd wake up annoyed, confused, and frustrated that she didn't know more about him. Cinderella wondered if she would ever find her dream man. She vowed that if an opportunity presented itself, she would not waste it; she would do whatever it took to make him hers and hers alone. The girl sighed as she noted that it was only a week before the ball.

She had been so busy in her extra chores that she had no time for learning how to do anything that was even remotely socially acceptable. She also lacked the necessary funds to buy a suitable dress and shoes. Her manners were okay, as far as they went, but she had not the refined social skills one would need for such a gathering. Oh, she had practiced little snippets of dances and manners on her broom and mop, pretending they were courtiers, but she knew that would not be sufficient. Still, she believed in miracles. If he or she were determined enough, a man or woman could change an entire world in a fortnight, let alone a week, she reasoned. She offered a silent prayer in her heart that her wish to go to the ball would come true.

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. Cinderella walked to it, whispering, "Yes?"

"I do not mean to bother you," an old, weathered voice said, "but could I trouble you for a drink of water? I have been walking and I still have a long way to travel."

"Well, I am not supposed to talk to, or see, any strangers, but…" Cinderella stopped whispering as she considered either admitting the old man or sending him on his way. She chose the former. "…come in. I will get you water." She opened the door to admit the old man. Cinderella recognized him as the man she'd seen in the forest the other day.

"Hello, again," he greeted. "I'm not sure you remember me."

"You are the old man I gave an apple to in the forest," Cinderella replied. She went to the sink and pumped some water into a small wooden cup.

The man nodded, saying, "I am he." He sat down on a stool by the door. "I do not mean to trouble you for anything, but…"

"It is no trouble, really, but I'd be obliged if you did not stay too long," Cinderella told the man, handing him some water.

"Why is that?" the man asked suddenly.

"It is my family," Cinderella answered, going to the fire to stoke the dying embers. The man softly blew; the flame sparked to life. Cinderella's brows drew together with confusion. She wondered how the flame recovered so quickly.

"Yes…" the old man said. His voice grew sarcastic as he spoke his next words. "I remember now…your family is the one that has taken you under its wing, but will not give you the wings to fly!"

Cinderella spun around to the man, responding, "Oh! You have no right to say that! You don't even _know_ about me!"

The old man said shrewdly, "There is an old saying that states 'not to know someone is to know them well.'" He sighed. "Again," he noted, "as I did the last time, I have made you angry." The old man removed his hood to drink the water she'd offered. As he did so, Cinderella saw that he was not old, as his voice had sounded, but in fact a young man.

He stood up, facing her, finishing his water. Before Cinderella could take the wooden cup away to refill it, the cup disappeared from her hand and materialized in the sink. The girl's eyes widened with fear. She backed away from the young man, never taking her eyes off of him.

"You need not be frightened," he said in a voice that sounded like it came from the Americas. "I mean you no harm."

"Who…who…" Cinderella gasped. Then, in a more forceful voice, she asked, "who are you?"

"I am a fae. I was sent here to help you," the man told her. The cloak he was wearing disappeared, leaving the apparel beneath. It was then that she got a good look at the young man. He looked slightly younger than she was, with slightly curly, unruly red hair. His face was almost elfin, although his ears were round rather than pointed. His height was also taller than most faeries and elves (not that she knew any personally, but she had heard about them). He wore a simple linen shirt beneath his cloak, and burgundy tights. The girl peered at the fae suspiciously.

"You truly are a faerie?" Cinderella asked.

"Of course," the faerie man said proudly. Cinderella was not afraid anymore, but she still kept her distance.

"You still don't believe me," the male fey pronounced.

"I cannot say that I do," Cinderella replied truthfully. "If you truly are a faerie, then why are you not dressed in sparkly raiment? And, how come you aren't a faerie God_mother?_ Aren't they usually the ones who turn up?"

The man snorted and said, "Here we go again! I have heard that humans always ask those questions! Listen, the reason there aren't Fairy God_fathers_ is because some old stuffed shirt writers, with puerile, Puritan brains who worked for the FCB decided that children and their parents would never understand the concept of a man helping out a woman without any romantic attachments. 'Bad for kids to read about that', they said. As for the costumes, those same narrow-minded, pebble-brained jokers decided that kids like flashy clothes; hence, all fey and other magic beings in books tend to wear outfits the _real _magic folk wouldn't be caught dead in!"

"What's the FCB?" Cinderella asked.

"It's the Fairytale Control Board," he explained. "They regulate the amount of drivel that goes into the homogenized versions of fairy tales humans read."

"Sort of like a censure board?" Cinderella asked. The faerie man nodded. He motioned her closer and said conspiratorially, "You know about little red riding hood?"

"Of course," Cinderella said indignantly. "She went to give food to her Grandmother and got side tracked by a hungry wolf."

"That's not the _real_ story," the man said. "The real story is that red had the hots for the wolf who really wasn't a wolf at all, but was a man in wolf skins, named Logan. She and he had relations, if you know what I mean, and the Grandmother never was part of the story. She was made up for kid appeal."

"No!" Cinderella whispered.

The faerie man crossed his chest and said earnestly, "cross my heart. Sorry I blew up about it, but male fey work their butts off helping people, and you'd think they'd rate one little mention in a fairy tale, but _nnnoooo, _my brothers and male coworkers don't even get into any of the books. You have to be a wizard or a sorcerer to be included, and they are always an afterthought."

"That's terrible," Cinderella agreed. "I can understand how you feel."

The man looked at her and said, "Yes, you do. I mean, have your family ever given you any praise for all you do for them?"

"Not once," Cinderella confirmed.

"That's why I am here," the faerie man said, "to change all of that."

"You might start by sharing your name," Cinderella said.

"My name is…well…it is rather long. It is Trillionanaoscapie," he said, "but you can call me Trillion."

"Why did you get named that?" Cinderella asked.

"Because my parents were into long names, that's why," Trillion said. "Any more questions?"

"Not that I'm not grateful, but you're here to help me be_cause?_" Cinderella wondered.

"You helped me thrice," Trillion said. "I was the old man in the forest as you have seen, but I was also the wounded cardinal bird."

"_That's_ why I could never find you. You changed back." Cinderella guessed. "Is this your true form?"

"All except my wings." Trillion supplied.

He stood apart from her, and as he floated a little off the floor, she could see his diaphanous wings, which resembled a dragonfly's wings. They were many brilliant colors of the rainbow, and they spread out from his back, making him look truly remarkable.

The wings grew invisible once more, and Cinderella could only see Trillion landing gently back on the floor. Cinderella was awed by the beautiful creature that stood before her. She forced herself to look away.

Trillion studied her, glancing at her green eyes. Were they full of…embarrassment? He didn't know. He had studied human emotions, but he still was clueless about many things. The fey focused on something more familiar to him: her aura. He had seen it when Max had showed Trillion the girl in the tutor's magic mirror. It glowed with such bright intensity it had almost blinded him. The colors shining out from her aura were warm and friendly, and although she had some dark spots, Cinderella's aura was that of a rare type of human: the type others aspire to emulate as they grow wiser in life.

Of course, as far as humans were, she was not unattractive physically to look upon. Maybe her beauty wasn't obvious at first. Her skin was slightly tanned, probably from being outside gathering fruit for pies and firewood. Her figure was well rounded, curved in the right places, and lean in others. Her blonde hair was not too blonde, certainly not like her step sister's, Magdalena's. It was a brownish blonde, shoulder length, with a slight curl to it, unlike Dalena's straight, flaxen tresses.

Despite all of her outer packaging, what had attracted him to her from the start was her kindness and her determination not to be as cruel as those she served. _That _gave her a beauty that was rare, both inside and out. He found he was also having trouble tearing his gaze from her, but also forced himself to look away. He cleared his throat, causing her to look at him.

"Well," he said, finding his voice, "I suppose we should get started."


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

**A/N: For your reading pleasure, I am submitting a longer chapter. Thanks to all who alerted me, or reviewed. In this slightly edited chapter, Trillion helps Cinderella get ready for the first ball. A little bit of fairy tale trivia: in some versions of the famous story, there are _three _balls, not just one. I thought that is more realistic for the historic meeting between Cinderella and the Prince.**

Cinderella's brows drew in confusion as she stared at the magic man before her. He had just said that he wanted to get started, but with what, she didn't know.

"Get started with what?" Cinderella asked.

"You wish to go to the ball your family spoke of, don't you?" Trillion asked.

"I…" Cinderella faltered. "Well, I don't know…."

"Show me a girl of your age who doesn't want to go to a ball and have some fun, and I'll show you a maid who is old before her time," Trillion commented. He added, "'course, I never really cared for these royal functions myself. You have to get dressed up just to stand around and talk, and it is always about the same old things, and there is never enough food..."

Trillion realized he was rambling, and then he stopped, saying, "but, I wager, in your heart of hearts, you'd love to go and see what it would be like."

Cinderella blushed; this fey seemed to know her so well. "I _would_ like to go," she started saying, "but I can't. There are so many reasons…."

"Liiikke…?" Trillion prompted slowly.

"Like, my family would recognize me," the girl said sadly.

Trillion shook his head, laughing a big, throaty laugh. "When I am finished with you, your own _father_ would not recognize you!" he declared.

"I also lack the social graces required for royal affairs. My father would have taught me to dance, courtesy, and talk properly in court circles, but he sadly died before my eighth birthday," Cinderella pointed out.

"Well, I have been to many functions, and I can teach you," Trillion tried to assure her. He did not add that they were mostly _fey_ functions; he didn't want to discourage the girl. Already, she was getting dejected before she even had a chance to attend the first ball.

"Third, I have neither the raiment nor the conveyance required to get there…" Cinderella was saying. Trillion snorted. He had just had enough of this!

"Stop worrying!" he ordered. "I can provide whatever you would need."

"But…" Cinderella protested again.

"Just give me a chance!" Trillion almost pleaded. "I'm the best at this, and you deserve to go, and meet the prince of your dreams!"

He closed the distance between them, saying his next words in awe. "You're kind, generous, and beautiful. Any prince would be lucky to have you!"

Cinderella smiled, and Trillion smiled back. He then harrumphed, all business now.

"So, anyway, where would you like to start? There are only scant days until the ball," he said. Cinderella thought a moment, remembering her Stepmother's snide remark about her curtseying, and said, "I would very much like to practice my curtsey."

Trilllion demonstrated the moves, crossing his legs and bowing slightly. "You try," he instructed.

Cinderella tried, and fell promptly over on her stomach. Trillion placed his slender fingers over his mouth, trying not to laugh.

"Yeah, well, a little less leaning forward, and I think you'll get it," he advised. Cinderella tried again. She didn't fall this time.

"Better," he observed, straightening her back. "Try once more."

She sighed, slightly frustrated, but tried a third time. Trillion watched, then applauded her.

"Beautiful!" He exclaimed. "Are you sure you are not of faerie blood? You catch onto things so quickly, I would think you would be…"

Cinderella shook her head, smiling as she straightened up. "No," she said.

Just then, her Stepmother's booming voice drifted downstairs. "Cinderella! CINDERELLA!" The step mother cried.

Cinderella looked over at Trillion, who thought that her step mother sounded like a foghorn, (which was an insult to foghorns). Cinderella looked around her, then realized she had not prepared any soup for dinner. _Now, I will be in for it! _She thought in blind terror.

_Don't worry, _Trillion's thoughts calmed her. _I've got this covered._

The girl's eyes widened in amazement. Had Trillion just been _thinking _to her, and had she just _heard it in her mind? _Before she could make sense of what had just happened, he vanished.

_Where are you? _She thought.

_Here, _Trillion thought back. _Look down, and to the right. _Cinderella did as she was told, and saw a white mouse not two feet from her.

_How can we be thinking and not speaking? _Cinderella wanted to know.

_I'll tell you later, _Trillion thought back as the step mother reached the bottom step. Cinderella nodded toward the Trillion-mouse.

_Stay out of sight! If my stepmother sees you, she'll kill you! She hates mice! _Cinderella thought.

"You odious girl! Why don't you heed my call?" Cinderella's step mother shouted, sweeping into the room. Cinderella cast her eyes in her step mother's direction. She did not call any attention to Trillion.

The step mother stood in front of the girl, letting her bigger frame dwarf her. "I certainly hope dinner is ready. I have invited some guests, and I…." The older woman paused, looking at the table and fireplace. The table had an array of vegetables which had been washed and peeled to perfection, and the fireplace had soup boiling in a pot.

"I don't believe it," she whispered, astonished. Aloud, she said, "Next time, you will have more dishes other than soup and vegetables to prepare!" She clopped upstairs, her wooden shoes echoing on the unstable steps.

Trillion materialized beside her, sticking out his tongue in the direction the Stepmother had taken. Cinderella giggled.

"That's not nice," she scolded the faerie, laughing some more.

Trillion paused for a moment to listen to her laughter; it was light and musical. He said, "She'd make a great bullfrog. She's got the manner of one."

"You're insulting bullfrogs now," the girl said. "I know several in the pond near my home; none of them act like she does."

"You're right," Trillion agreed. Reluctantly, he looked at the door. "I must be going, but I will return tomorrow." He left with the cloak floating behind him.

Cinderella watched his retreating form, already wishing for his return.

The next day, they worked on her walking.

"You have to _glide_ across the floor," Trillion instructed. Cinderella groaned.

"Wwwhhyyy?" She whined. "I've tried copying you in ten thousand different ways! Will the prince really be watching me walk like that?"

Trillion grinned evilly. "_I've _watched you walk. If I know anything about human males, I know he will watch you, too."

Cinderella threw her pillow at him, but the object passed through the faerie. He laughed, saying, "You'll have to try harder."

She laughed, and Trillion's ears twitched at the sound. After about four hours of practicing gliding and courtly conversation, Trillion noted Cinderella's tiredness. "Maybe we could take a small break," he suggested.

"Okay," Cinderella agreed. "What shall we talk about?"

"Talk is so…boring," Trillion said. His blue eyes took on a mischievous glint as he asked her, "have you ever flown?"

"Flown?" Cinderella whispered, a little frightened. "No."

"I will show you flying," Trillion assured her. A moment later, they were soaring in the clouds outside. Cinderella felt her heart beat with excitement, and yet, she also felt the calmest she had been. She held onto his neck, careful not to stick her hand in the path of his wings. She could see all of her town, Aramathea.

"It all looks so peaceful from up here!" She cried.

"Glad you like it," Trillion told her. "You know, years from now, they will have flying machines that humans will use to go all around the world."

"You mean, like the one the royal painter was working on?" She asked. "Not bloody likely!" She snorted. Trillion was not put off by her disbelief.

"Much better than that!" Trillion said, dipping a little.

She adjusted her position, crying, "Hey!"

"Sorry, but I thought you'd want to see the palace close up. After all, you'll be dancing there in less than a week," the fey said.

As Cinderella gazed at the palace, which for most would be a sight to behold, she felt the most unusual melancholy. She banished it to the far reaches of her mind, however, and took in the white washed towers and the red flags adorning them. She saw a young man with curly brown hair on the second level. He had a handsome face, with the brownest eyes she'd ever seen. He was playing with a puppy, lifting it up in his long, muscular arms. The puppy was covered in mud, proceeding to make its owner completely dirty, but the man didn't seem to mind. He laughed, putting the puppy down, and running back into the palace.

"Was that who I think it was?" Cinderella asked. Trillion was silent for a moment; he stared at the retreating form of the young man, feeling the most unprovoked anger. Cinderella gently punched him. "Trillion?" She asked again.

Trillion looked at her; his face completely unreadable. "What?" He said none too gently.

"Was that the prince?" Cinderella repeated. She looked after the retreating man with a dreamy expression on her face.

"Yes, that was him," Trillion answered her dryly, trying to figure out why he'd felt the way he had. The prince was, in his opinion, a wonderful example of humanity: a bit naïve, perhaps, but the prince had many fine qualities. So why did the thought of him being Cinderella's mate have Trillion wanting to tear him apart? He turned to his companion as he realized she'd asked him yet another question: something about the prince's parents?

"What's the matter with you?" Cinderella asked, mildly annoyed.

Trillion murmured, "Nothing. I suppose I'm just weary."

"Oh, well, maybe we should go back," Cinderella reluctantly said.

"Right," Trillion told her, not really listening. They presently landed at the manor, and Trillion taught Cinderella dining etiquette. After about two hours, he looked outside of the window. "From the position of the sun, I would say that your family is returning, and I wouldn't want you to be in any trouble."

"I forgot!" Cinderella cried, her hand flying to her mouth. They landed in front of her dungeon room door, just as Griselda emerged from the carriage. Cinderella let herself in, whispering to Trillion: "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," the faerie promised.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Trillion departed, and flew to the cottage on the edge of the woods. Maxistrattian, the older fairy he'd been with a few weeks ago was there, shaking his head in a sign of disapproval.

"Young ones!" He said under his breath. Aloud, he said, "So, the lessons you are teaching Cinderella are progressing nicely?"

"Yes," Trillion said, not giving anything away.

"Just what do you think you're doing with her?" The older magic man asked.

Trillion looked as innocent as he could. "What do you mean?" He asked as nonchalantly as he could muster.

"Since when do faeries join their minds with humans?" Max chided. Trillion didn't answer, and his mentor went on: "And where does the instruction book of the fae say anything about taking humans _flying?_ What does that have to do with lessons in the social graces?"

Trillion's head bowed in shame. "It just…popped into my head, that's all." He shuffled his feet.

The older man gave Trillion a pointed stare. "What was the first lesson you ever learned in dealing with humans, Trillionanaoscapie?"

"Never become too personally involved with humans," Trillion replied sullenly.

"That's right," Trillion's mentor instructed.

"I wasn't becoming too involved," Trillion defended. "I was just…taking a break."

The older man rolled his eyes. "Come on, now! I've been doing this for fifteen hundred years, and you've only just started at your young age! Who is fooling whom here?"

Trillion sighed, knowing he'd been caught. He'd never win an argument with his teacher. He said, "So you've caught me. What happens now?"

"You will get one more chance, but consider yourself warned! I would hate to have to report your actions to the Faerie Queen, especially on your first mission," Max admonished him.

Trillion shuddered inwardly. Although he'd never met the Queen of the Faerie, he had heard that Sherlyndria could be quite the punisher when she was angered. This kind of thing could enrage her; he might even be left powerless! He turned red, thinking what he was too afraid to say. _I promise! I'll be good._

The older man said, "I know you will. When Trillion's color changed back to normal, the man continued: "now, what more do you have to teach your young client?"

"Dancing," Trillion stated. The old fey's eyebrows shot up.

"_That_ should be interesting," he commented.

Cinderella continued repairing Giselda's ripped dress in her room, wondering for the fifth time that day what had happened to Trillion. The ball would be later that night, and she didn't have much time to learn the refinements about dancing with a prince. When she heard the knock on the door, she sprang out of her rickety chair and eagerly opened it. Noting the serious look on Trillion's face, Cinderella ushered him in, making him sit by the fireplace. Trillion blew on it, bringing the dying fire to life.

"What is it?" She asked, concern for him flooding her eyes.

Trillion looked at her, suddenly overwhelmed with a desire to hug her for her concern. He smiled at her, though the smile did not quite reach his eyes.

"Nothing," he said. "Well, milady, good news: you've only got one more lesson left. That is where we get to dance."

"I _can_ dance," Cinderella told him, crossing her arms.

"Well, dancing has changed a lot in the past eleven years since your father's death." Trillion said dryly. He held out his arms, and she climbed into them. He slowly pulled her away from him.

He gestured to his outstretched arms. "This is my dance arena, if you will. I don't encroach upon yours, and you don't go into mine."

"Oh…" she said, a little disappointed at not being in his arms. "Aren't dancers supposed to be close to each other?"

"Not _that _close," Trillion replied, smirking. Before he turned red with embarrassment in front of her, he stepped away slightly, showing her some simple steps to what resembled a waltz. Cinderella practiced some of the moves of the dance, but Trillion could tell that it was a little difficult.

He gestured, and dance feet appeared on the floor. "Try waltzing to these steps," he commanded, pointing to the dance feet. She did as he told her, going slowly, then picking up speed. It took three hours, but she finally looked up at him in triumph as she finished the last step.

He nodded in approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he praised her. He made to leave, but heard her voice.

"Is that all I receive?" Cinderella said softly.

"There is nothing more I can teach you," Trillion remarked, looking back at her.

"But…" she started, faltering. "I need…I…"

Trillion turned back and said, "Yes?"

"I need to know how to…I mean, I've never…been with a man," she finally told the faerie. He looked confused, so she explained: "My father never told me how to kiss a prince."

"You'll get the hang of it," Trillion said softly. "Most humans do."

Cinderella shook her head. "What if I do the wrong thing?" The girl started to cry; Trillion took pity on her.

"All right," he agreed. He motioned her closer, bidding her softly, "come here."

She came close to him. He lost himself in her moist, green eyes. They reminded him of the jade colored lake near his province: deep, green, mysterious.

"He'll probably walk with you somewhere near the palace, for a measure of privacy," Trillion told her. She nodded, hanging on his every word. He pulled her closer, saying, "then, he'll lean in, like this."

He leaned in, inhaling the fragrance of sweat mixed with apple spice. She came ever closer, then, his lips touched hers. Cinderella caught the fragrance of honey as her arms slid up his sides. She deepened the kiss, her tongue finding his mouth. He let her have access, and for a brief moment, time seemed to stop for this incredible lesson in kissing. Trillion grew a little bolder, deepening his kiss, stroking her hair.

"Cinderella!" Magdalena's shrill voice called from upstairs. Cinderella didn't respond; so enraptured was she by the kiss. Trillion was the first to break contact. "Cinderella!" Magdalena's voice grew louder.

"You see?" Trillion breathed. "You are a natural. Humans always are." He looked at her with complete awe, and with an emotion he'd never felt before. For her part, Cinderella's face mirrored the same emotions. They both straightened up, and he said, "I will be back with your costume and transportation."

Cinderella blinked her eyes, willing herself to return to reality as he left not a moment before Magdalena finished running down the stairs to her.

"Is my dress ready, you leech?" Magdalena growled.

"Yes," Cinderella answered, staring after the direction Trillion had taken.

Magdalena stared after her, confused. "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Cinderella murmured in a dream like voice.

"Snap out of it! Mother and Grissy are coming, and you'd better have everything ready!" Dalena ordered her. Cinderella jumped to attention suddenly, remembering what needed doing. She noticed that there were, in fact, three dresses of the most impeccable styles on her bed. Rushing behind Magdalena, Cinderella bounded up the stairs with the garments.

"You certainly took your sweet time getting here," Griselda said coolly.

"Sorry, had to make finishing touches," Cinderella said.

After arranging the dresses on her stepmother and stepsisters, Cinderella watched as they took their leave. When she was certain they were out of range, she ran downstairs, calling to Trillion.

At first, she heard nothing, then: "You rang, oh _bella mia_?" The faerie asked, his disembodied voice all around her. At her confused frown, he commented wryly, "you really need to get out more." Her eyes grew wide as Trillion grew from a small speck to a full sized man.

"You said that you'd have transportation and clothes for me," Cinderella pointed out.

"So I did," Trillion said, commenting, "you know, in the stories you humans write about this situation, a pumpkin is turned into a coach. Really, a _pumpkin, _of all things! Never mind having to clean out all of the seeds, what about the smell? Would you really want to stand in front of a prince smelling like a _pumpkin_?"

"What would you suggest?" Cinderella questioned. Trillion thought a moment, then brightened. He grabbed her hand.

"Come outside with me," he instructed. He whistled three sharp whistles, like a bird call. Suddenly, a swan walked across the lawn, its beautiful white plumage glowing in the moonlight. Cinderella marveled at the majesty of the swan. Trillion waved his arms, as if he were conducting an orchestra. The bird grew, getting bigger, and bigger, until she was the size of a small boat.

"Get onto that," he ordered. Cinderella smirked.

"What?" Trillion asked.

"Well, I suppose it's none of my business, but couldn't you have simply gotten a horse to take me?" Cinderella asked.

"Swans are much more theatrical," Trillion protested. "You do want to make a grand impression, don't you?"

"I suppose," Cinderella agreed. Trillion helped her onto the swan's back.

"I guess that's everything," Trillion said.

"But…" Cinderella started to say. "How do I tell the bird where to go?"

"Oh, that's easy," Trillion told her. "The bird is magically enhanced. All you have to do is order it to take you to the prince's castle—his name is Marlin, by the way. When you want to return home, just tell the bird to take you back home."

"But…" Cinderella said again.

"Now, now, don't dawdle," Trillion said, growing impatient. "On your way, there's a good girl."

"But…I…" Cinderella started to say a third time.

Trillion sighed, thinking, _humans! _Aloud, he assured the girl again, "They won't recognize you; you have my sincerest promise." His eyes grew serious. "But it does remind me that there is something I almost forgot. Take heed, for this is most important. At the stroke of midnight, the magic I have used will be spent, and everything will return to its original state. You must return home before that time."

Cinderella nodded, looking at her dress. She said, "I understand all that, but there is something else…"

Trillion considered a moment, asking, "Have I forgotten something else? I don't think so. There was your lessons, transportation, the cloaking spell so that you wouldn't be recognized, and…" he trailed off as he saw the old, faded gown Cinderella wore.

"Good heavens! They'll kick you out if you come in wearing _that!_" He exclaimed, aghast.

Cinderella shook her head, grinning. Trillion huffed, saying imperiously, "Well, I _am_ new at this, you know." He waved his arms again, and Cinderella was enveloped in a glowing light. Before her eyes, her tattered gown was transformed into a beautiful, emerald green dress, with flowers gathered at the shoulders, and a full skirt. She lifted up her dress slightly, and saw two green silk slippers which matched perfectly. She felt her head; her hair, which had been hanging down before, was caught up in a chignon, and there were tendrils hanging on either side of her head.

"Fantastic!" Trillion breathed, materializing a full length mirror for her to view herself in.

"Yes," Cinderella agreed, amazed at her appearance. The mirror vanished. "You did an excellent job!" She praised him. Her eyes grew warm as she whispered, "How can I ever thank you?"

"Have a good time!" Trillion advised, fixing Cinderella with a killer grin. As the magically enchanted swan swam across the lake out of sight, the fey stared at them, feeling a moment of pride at a job well done, but also delight at having seen one of the most beautiful sights in his young life. He felt his color change from a human tone to a warm, white glow. His heart seemed to beat faster for some reason the more he thought about his client.

The fey looked at the moonlit sky, making a wish himself. He regained his natural pallor, then he withdrew a list of things to attend to from his pocket, checking it to see if there were any other errands. Seeing none, Trillion decided that he could afford to have some fun. After all, he'd done any number of fairy things, but he had never seen a ball with humans. He realized that Max would probably protest, but his client _was _going to be there, and trouble _could _occur. Would it really hurt, he reasoned, to be prepared, just this once?

His mind decided, the fey altered his appearance and disappeared.


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

**A/N: So finally, the Prince meets Cinderella at the first ball. What will be the outcome? And, what has Trillionanaoscapie so conflicted?**

**This chapter is slightly edited from the original.**

The swan swam gracefully across the lake by the castle. After checking to make sure no one else was about, Cinderella got off of the swan's back. It shrank down to the size of a regular swan. She walked up the massive stairs of the castle, listening to the music floating down. She swayed to the music, remembering the dance steps Trillion had taught her. Inside, dresses were swirling, and the atmosphere was one of gaiety and merrymaking. In the center of the ballroom, Prince Edward was dancing with a blonde girl, who was tittering in his ear. Although he smiled at her, the Prince sighed mentally, bored out of his mind. When the song ended, the royal heir excused himself.

It was in the back of the ballroom near the garden that he first saw her. She was sitting on a bench, a white glow enveloping her. _She looks so like an angel, _the Prince thought. He came closer, reaching out with his hand, to see if, in fact, he could touch her.

When he connected with her warmth, the Prince pulled away, totally embarrassed.

"So sorry," he said.

Cinderella looked up at him, into his deep, chocolate eyes. "No, it was my fault. I should have made my presence known."

"It's all right. My fault entirely," the Prince commented.

Cinderella turned, preparing to leave. "I should go," she said. The Prince gently grabbed her arm. When she turned back, slightly confused, the Prince let go.

"I entreat you," the Prince told her smiling. "Please, tell me your name. My name is Edward."

Cinderella thought for a moment, then said, "I'm not sure if that is wise. I've only just arrived and we've only just seen each other."

The Prince's smile deepened. "A woman of mystery," he said. "I like that. For now, I will simply call you 'Angel'."

Cinderella's brows knit with confusion. "Why?"

Prince Edward answered her, "Because when I first saw you on that bench, you looked like an Angel."

Cinderella grinned as he offered his hand. She took it, and together they made their way onto the dance floor. She looked at her current dance partner, with his curly, dark brown hair; his smiling, rounder face, and his cocoa colored orbs and she thought,_ he____is fascinating…. _

He swept her in a light waltz, which thanks to Trillion, she knew. _Trillion, _her mind whispered. She wondered what the faerie was doing, and, more importantly, she wondered why it mattered so much more than dancing with the Prince. _Maybe I am mad, _she reasoned, but her gentler side thought, _no, maybe I wonder because he is such an interesting character, too._

Cinderella remembered their dance together, and the kiss, and returned to reality as the Prince stepped on her foot.

"Oh!" She exclaimed.

"Sorry, but you weren't paying attention to the dance," the Prince said. "Are you ill?"

Cinderella shook her head. "No, I just have so many things on my mind."

"Of course you do," the Prince agreed. "How about we postpone the dance, and just talk?"

Cinderella willed herself to focus on her royal suitor. He _was_ handsome, charming, and very well spoken, after all, but her thoughts flew back to Trillion's sweet smile, his manic behavior, and his brilliant, blue eyes. Although the Prince seemed very cordial and friendly, it was the faerie who had captured her mind and her very soul. She wondered if he thought about her as much as she was thinking about him.

She realized the Prince was waiting for an answer, and said, "I would like that, but I am a little thirsty."

"Oh!" the Prince exclaimed. "Of course you are! I will get you something; just wait right here." He ran off as Cinderella dutifully waited for him. Though it was cooler outside, the palace was warm, probably due to all the dancing bodies inside.

Feeling slightly warm, she decided that she would see the gardens for a moment. As she saw the hanging trees, and a small lake beyond, she sighed, totally lost in the landscape. The Little Cinder Girl walked up to the lake, the cool water beckoning. The moon shined on the water; she ran her hand through it, smiling as the image of the moon grew distorted.

"What's a beautiful girl doing sitting all alone on a festive night like this?" she heard a voice say.

Jumping at the sound, Cinderella turned, expecting to see the Prince or Trillion, but she was slightly disappointed when she saw a totally different man. He was tall and blond, and spoke with a British accent, unlike the fey's unusual one, which sounded like it came, perhaps, from the Americas.

This man's eyes were, she guessed, a darker shade, and his features were more coarse, though not less handsome than Trillion's. He had on a navy coat resembling a frock coat, and black pants.

"I'm waiting for the Prince," Cinderella answered.

"Really?" the man asked. "You might be waiting for a while. It seems he was detained by the King and Queen."

"I suppose I should go in and wait for him," she offered. The man looked at her; as the moon shone a little more light on them she noticed the color of his eyes: violet.

"Why don't you have a quick dance with me?" the man asked. "I promise I won't bite."

Cinderella decided to politely decline. "It would not be proper. I do not know who you are."

"Fair enough," the man replied. "Monsieur Trent—" he bowed low to her—"at your service."

"Monsieur…" she began.

"Just Trent," the man said softly. "One dance, Miss…"

"I am called Cinderella," the girl told him, curtseying. As she straightened, she didn't mistake the sparkle in his eyes. "But I must return. He will be searching for me."

"Why not give a stranger one small request?" the man bade. "I will return you to your inamorato." He held out his arms expectantly.

Not wanting to be rude, Cinderella said, "I will grant your request, but after that…"

"I know, I know, you must go back," Trent said. "I promise you will be back before he misses you."

He pulled her close, and she caught his scent. There was something familiar about it, but for the life of her, she could not place where she had smelled such a scent before. They swayed gently, fully comfortable in each other's arms. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the dance was finished. Trent smiled, almost triumphantly.

"Thank you, milady," he said, turning to leave.

"Wait!" She called. He turned back. Cinderella forgot why she'd called him and told him so.

"I'm sure you will remember when the time comes," Trent told her, walking away. Before she could discover what he meant or follow him, the Prince came over to her, two goblets in his hands. Cinderella looked for the other man, but she didn't see him. She turned her attention back to Prince Edward.

He handed a silver goblet to her, asking, "Where were we? Ah, yes, talking." He gently took her arm, escorting her through the dance hall.

As the pair engaged in a lively dance, Trent watched them from his vantage point across the hall. His violet eyes were stormy. An older man sidled up to him. He had a vest which resembled Trent's jacket. His pants were brown instead of black, however.

"What's on your mind?" He asked Trent, muttering, "as if I didn't know."

Trent continued to stare after the couple. He finally faced the older man, saying, "oh, it's you. I was wondering when you'd show up."

"I figured I'd blend in," the older man rejoined, shrugging. "May I speak to you in private?" He gestured to the garden Cinderella and the Prince had vacated earlier. Trent followed closely behind.

When they were hidden amongst a group of tall bushes, the older man scolded, shaking his head, "what am I going to do with you? Didn't I tell you that you could be reported if you continued to disobey the rules?"

"Yes," Trent whispered, morphing into the familiar shape of Trillion. "I was just observing them. Honestly, I was."

"_Dancing_ with the girl was not 'just _observing_'," the older man criticized. "If this happens again, you know what I will have to do."

"Please, Max," the fae pleaded, "I know I've been taking some liberties, but this is the first time I've ever been this close to humans. They are such fascinating creatures."

"For that reason, I've not turned you in," Max admonished. "I know what it's like to be your age. I realize that young people, whether human, or fae, tend to be curious. And I do know that, despite what you have seen in your Magic Mirror concerning human royal balls, you have never actually attended one, so you want to see one."

Max pointed at his young student to emphasize his point. "But you are treading on dangerous ground," he said. "Do you want to be suspended; to have your wings taken, or some other equally terrible thing, for 100 years?"

Trillion shook his head, but tried again. "I don't. It's just…I can't explain it, but she and I have a connection. When I held her in my arms, I saw her aura. It was brighter than any I've seen!"

Max's face clouded; he was lost in thought for a moment. He remembered their conversation about love and humans, and wondered about Trillion. Telling himself that what the younger fey felt was just the attraction of being in a new situation with interesting beings, the older fey asked, "Do you think she has our blood in her?"

"I am not sure," Trillion answered, "but did you not tell me once that there are some humans who just have a very interesting inner self? She could be one of them."

Max agreed. "You could have a point there, but…" he pointed to the younger man, "…even if that were true, socializing with her is not permitted. She is destined to be with the Prince, not with you."

Trillion protested, "I don't want to be with her! At least not in the way you're thinking. I just want…" Trillion considered for a moment. What _did _he want, from her anyway? To be acquaintances, to be friends? He pondered his options, thinking about Cinderella at the Prince's side. He turned over the words _companion, friend, wife to a Prince. _That didn't feel like the right thing.

Then, his imagination flew to a kiss shared between two beings getting to know each other. He began to think the words, _soulmate, lover, mine. _Those sounded so great, so…_right. _He shook those tempting thoughts away. He could beat this…fascination with a girl who would never belong to him. He had to.

"What is it you want?" Max repeated, waiting expectantly for an answer. "More importantly, if you receive what you truly want, will you be able to handle the consequences?"

He didn't wait for his protégé's answer before stating, "Because, I am here to tell you that I just overheard the Prince's parents talking, and there are to be two more festive gatherings within this month. You will have to aid her for those festivities. If, however, you can't, I can petition the Fey Queen for someone else to be appointed…"

Trillion shook his head, wearing a look of steely determination. "I _will _deal with this, whatever it is. I promise, I will not fail her, or you. Above all else, I wish her happiness, even if it means I won't be."

Max grinned, nodding his approval. They looked at the Prince and Cinderella, who were still dancing together despite other women giving the girl dirty looks. Trillion left, not wanting to see them. A moment later, Max caught up with him, flying amongst the clouds in the night sky.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

**A/N: This chapter is slightly edited. In it, the second ball occurs, and Cinderella meets a very special wand.**

The occupants of the chateau were beside themselves when they heard that there was to be a second ball later that month in honor of Prince Edward. Griselda was haughtily saying how she would not miss obtaining the Prince's favor. The Step Mother was doing everything to encourage her older daughter: she made Grissy ride everyday as she dieted, which was making her eldest daughter thinner. The Step Mother had also taken pains to have Magdalena continue with her training in diction and deportment so that if Griselda failed to distract the Prince and secure his affection, her younger daughter might be able to.

Dalena had demonstrated that she could learn many dance steps, speech patterns, and walking techniques rapidly. For all of her training, however, her personality had gotten worse. She not only grew more distant towards her step sister Cinderella, but also more spiteful toward her family.

"I don't know why you bother with Grissy, Mother," Dalena said one day as she practiced her walking and gliding. "Anyone can see that she is like a horse that needs to be put out to pasture."

Griselda sputtered and spouted as Dalena ignored her, concentrating fully on her Mother's upcoming comments. The Step Mother said, "What she does…what you _both _do is for all of us. We were meant for better things! It is for that reason that the two of you must work together to secure the Prince as a husband!"

"_Me _support _her?" _Griselda snapped in Dalena's direction. "Not _bloody _likely!"

"GRISELDA!" her Mother rebuked. "You will watch your language! I will not have you swearing like a barmaid!"

"Her swearing is all the more reason that she will fail to make the Prince choose her!" Magdalena commented. Cinderella came into the room. The Step Mother regarded her disdainfully.

"With the way you two act, Cinderella has a better chance of securing the Prince's fortunes and good will," she said sarcastically.

Cinderella said, "I should not want to do that, Step Mother."

"What's this you are saying, Child?" the Step Mother asked her step daughter as she went to the closet to select dresses which needed airing out.

"I am saying that if I were fortunate enough to go to the ball, I should be more comfortable with being diverted by many gentlemen rather than simply singling out the Prince with seductions to become his bride," Cinderella said, laying three gowns on the chair.

She casually addressed all three of them, giving no sign of knowing what had gone on at the ball as she'd danced with the Prince two weeks before. "What did happen?" she asked, her tone light.

"There was a female intruder at the ball," Dalena told her, her eyes blazing with hatred of the mysterious woman who'd danced with the Prince.

"Oh?" Cinderella queried, raising a brow. "What was she like?"

"She wore an emerald gown, which was totally wrong for her and for such a royal occasion," Griselda commented, adding, "I mean, everyone wears the lighter colors to such a function!"

"Maybe she thought the color would get more notice," Cinderella suggested, smiling inwardly.

"It doesn't matter," Magdalena said as the Little Cinder Girl straightened her hair, "inasmuch as she also seemed to lose interest in the Prince after they returned from the garden. Oh, she danced with him, and he seemed quite taken with her, but she was distracted, wasn't she, Mother?"

The Step Mother replied thoughtfully, "Yes…she did seem to have other diversions on her mind."

Cinderella's thoughts flew to the other man who had danced with her: the mysterious Monsieur Trent. She had gone looking for him in the ball room after they had danced, but he had gone. Ever practical, the Girl of Cinder and Ash dutifully danced in Prince Edward's arms, but her thoughts kept straying to the other suitor, and, inexplicably, to a fey who still danced in her dreams.

"One would think the Prince would be all the distraction a woman would need," Cinderella said conversationally. "Did this lady have a name?"

"I heard the Prince call her 'Angel', but naught else," Griselda replied.

"'Tis of no consequence about her," the Step Mother said. "All that matters is that one of my two little doves secure the Prince for a husband!" She regarded Cinderella, instructing, "You, therefore, will help us to that end. You will design dresses of unique material and demure décolletage so that we do not give the game away too soon. The gowns should contain something that will make the Prince forget all of the other maids! You will also see to it that my daughters are coiffed, perfumed, and wearing the right facial adornments so that nothing will stand in the way of one of them being the Prince's bride! And, for your hard work, I can assure you that when one of my daughters is the Princess of Aramathea, you will always have an elevated serving position in their household!"

Cinderella did not reply to that right away. For the first time, she began to face what she had denied all along: that Trillion had been right about her family. She had hoped a child's foolish dream that at least a little of her family's loving nature would show itself after all she had done over the years. Maybe it was naive of her, but was a wish to see a little gratitude from them such an impossible thing to make happen?

After a long pause, she said, "Thank you, Step Mother." _You're all heart, _she thought a little unkindly. Outwardly, she lifted her head as high as she dared and left their bedroom to do her other chores.

XXXXXXXXX

When Cinderella finally came downstairs, she laid her head on her pillow and started to cry. She decided that maybe it _was_ time to do more for herself, and if love gave her the chance to be with the Prince as his bride, she would initiate laws to assist other future Cinderellas so that their lives might be easier

"_I_ think it's impossible for them to change if you ask me," a voice said from the corner of her quarters. Cinderella saw a tiny beetle grow and change into the familiar form of Trillion. With her arms, she wiped away her tears, forcing herself to smile.

"Anyone can change if they so wish it," Cinderella told him.

Trillion's eyes locked with hers. He felt her sadness even though she tried to hide it. But beneath it, her optimistic belief in the potential for goodness in all people still shone through. His ever growing adoration for her threatened to envelop him at that moment. He shook it off, assuming an unaffected air.

"Right, ball number two," he said clearing his throat, his American accent more pronounced.

"What shall I do now?" Cinderella said.

"You got him to notice you…that's half the battle right there," Trillion told her.

Cinderella exclaimed, "Ahh…so you _were _there!"

Trillion looked indecisive for a moment as he pondered the correct response. "It was in the gossip parchments the next day, to say nothing of the Mirror images that I am able to see!" he said.

At least what he'd said had been true enough. He couldn't lie to Cinderella, or any human really; it was part of the fairy code, after all. But he could stretch small truths, or just keep quiet about what was true so that none of his clients would catch on.

Cinderella looked disappointed as she softly asked her next question: "Will you be dancing at this ball?"

The magic man shook his head, saying, "Nah! Can't do that! Not in the rules, you see."

"I see," Cinderella said, not being able to keep the depression out of her voice.

She had hoped that the fey would be there, and that he would dance with her as they had done when he had taught her how to dance. She had also hoped that he would kiss her again. But she decided that she couldn't force a totally different creature to love her, or to even like her. If all he wanted was to make this a business affair, who was she to contradict him? For all she knew, the kiss could have simply been his way of showing her how to behave with the Prince and nothing else.

Trillion extracted a stick from his pocket, explaining, "This is my wand." He waved it aloft so that she could see it more clearly.

"Wand of Mine, this is Cinderella," he told his wand.

Cinderella observed that it was a white stick which resembled polished ivory, and it had four symbols on it. They looked like hieroglyphic symbols or the runic ones her Papa had shown her when she was a little girl. Each symbol represented one of the four principle elements of the Earth: air, water, fire, and ground. There were some other symbols, more like fine writing. The Little Cinder Girl didn't know what they were, but guessed that if she was meant to know, he would explain them.

'_Tis such a treat, this maiden to meet, _Trillion's wand said in his mind and Cinderella's. She noted that the wand had a high, female voice.

"She talks in rhyme," Trillion clarified, "and because I wish it, only you and I can hear her."

"Pleased to meet you," Cinderella greeted, curtseying to the wand.

_Hello, Little Maid of Cinder and Ash. May you have fun at the Prince's bash, _the wand commented mentally. Trillion gestured with his wand, and it disappeared.

"How do you do that?" Cinderella wanted to know.

"Very technical," Trillion told her, "but essentially, it boils down to rearranging the light particles so that my wand is visible to the human eye."

Cinderella frowned for a moment before asking, "Why didn't you use your wand the first time?"

"I hadn't met her yet that first time," Trillion told her simply.

She nodded, not able to come up with a suitable reply. She queried, "What does a wand actually help you do?"

"It enables us fey to focus our energies a little better," Trillion responded. "I mean, I could gesture with my arms and hands, but it gets to be tiring after awhile. It is kind of like a conductor gesturing an orchestra without his baton. It can be done, but it is so much easier with a wand, particularly for the more involved complex magicks."

Cinderella regarded the fey. She found him and his world more fascinating with every explanation he gave. It would be hard trying to notice the Prince, but she would give it her all, since she knew the fairy man was only trying to be kind by humoring her with explanations.

He fished a long wooden tube out of his pocket, instructing, "Blow into this; if I am at all near, I will hear it, and I will come." She tried, but didn't hear anything. She had noticed as she blew that he covered his elfin ears.

"Not so loud!" he shouted, removing his hands from his ears. "You just have to blow _softly_. This will only work for you, by the way."

"Thank you," Cinderella said. Trillion disappeared, promising to return with her gown and provisions like before on the night of the next ball.

XXXXXXXXX

Cinderella alighted from Marlin, the magic swan Trillion had provided again, in front of the Prince's castle for the second ball. By the stairs leading to the main ball room, she glanced at the chocolate brown gown she wore, with the smoky quartz earrings dangling in her lobes, in a reflection caused by a big puddle illuminated by moonlight. The shoes she wore were made of a material Trillion called "leather".

From a tree nearby, the young faerie watched the Little Cinder Girl go up the stairs, his longing to go to this affair building by leaps and bounds. He had changed into a squirrel so that she wouldn't spy him there anon, and he squashed his desire for her in the wish if not the hope that she would enjoy the junior ruler's company more without him around.

"You are doing the right thing, just remember," another squirrel advised.

"I know, Max…I know," Trillion said. He looked forlornly at her once more and turned into a firefly, his wings flapping wildly until he reached the ball room. Max materialized beside him, his shape in the form of a regular fly.

"What are you doing?" Max wanted to know.

"I am just sticking around in case of trouble," Trillion assured him, his voice having a buzzing sound a little.

"So long as you don't interfere and let them do this on their own," Max cautioned. Trillion frowned when he saw the Prince's eyes light on Cinderella. Prince Edward took her white gloved hand and danced with her to a medium paced composition. As they looked into each other's eyes, the disgusted fey turned green with jealousy. He decided suddenly that his client could take care of herself. Trillion left in an angry huff with Max following close behind.

Cinderella tried eagerly to dance with the royal heir, telling herself that any one of dozens of girls and women would love to trade places with her. She even laughed when Prince Edward leaned over and whispered something into her ear.

"Tell me, Angel," the Prince asked as he pulled away, "I have never seen you at any royal functions before. Are you a resident of my kingdom? If so, why have I never had the pleasure of seeing you?"

Cinderella thought a moment, then replied, "I had other matters commanding my attention so that I could not get away to come."

The Prince nodded, saying, "I understand. I, too, was occupied until my parents decided to have these gatherings. I would like to know more about you, though. You intrigue me, and I wish to find out about you even if I do not know your real name."

"What would you like to know?" the Little Cinder Girl asked as they circled each other in another dance.

"What sort of music do you like?" the Prince queried conversationally. "Do you fancy Sir Charles of Adamstown's drums, for instance, or do you prefer Sir Pandamere's harp playing?"

Cinderella could answer those questions with ease; she had listened to both when her Father had been alive, and, at least, each of the musicians the Prince had named had played their music for a score of years, if not more.

"Sir Pandamere's harps are more soothing to me than Sir Charles's drums," she said. The Prince seemed disappointed that she had not chosen the former. Harps were all right, but drums were so much more interesting to him.

They danced and talked some more, but as they pulled apart, the Prince began to realize that he and his Angel didn't seem to have much in common. For one, though she thought jousts were amusing, she didn't have an intimate connection with the exhilaration the Prince felt after he had engaged in one. She also didn't have the same taste in literature. Prince Edward found her love of all parchments about Shakespearean plays to be boring, and cooking scrolls to be pedestrian. Although she was a decent rider, her knowledge about horses was lacking in many areas. When they had exhausted every subject he questioned her on, he excused himself and went looking for a fresh new lady to dance with for awhile.

Prince Edward came across a flaxen blonde who was waiting in line to dance. His eyes danced with anticipation as he took her hand. Magdalena was overjoyed. Next to her, her Mother's eyes took on a faraway look as she pictured where to hang her oversized portrait in the Prince's castle.

As they moved in perfect rhythm to the music, Magdalena lightly teased, "Fancy seeing you again."

The Prince pulled apart from her and studied her. "Have we met?"

"You fell off of your horse Naomi," Magdalena reminded him.

"Of course!" the Prince exclaimed, remembering how she'd fed his horse tenderly, and he'd had to rush off to be educated in the social graces for the balls.

"We have never been formally introduced," Prince Edward said, remembering his manners. He bowed, saying as she straightened, "I am Edward, Prince of Aramathea."

Magdalena curtseyed, greeting back, "I am Magdalena of the House of Paldrine."

"Delighted," the Prince said, warming up to the lanky lady.

They danced to a very fast piece, and they talked about different drummers. Dalena told him about her interest in painting, and the Prince inquired, "What do you think of the revolutionary new artist Piltrassi? I love his shapes and colors!"

Magdalena smiled broadly, breathing, "I _adore _his unusual shapes, and his display of colors is nothing short of fantastic!"

The Prince queried, "You do not mind his non representational art?"

Dalena shook her head, saying earnestly, "Oh, no, sire! It is the swirls and plays of imagery which touch and delight my mind!" She and the Prince sat on one of the many benches in the ball room.

"I have never known a lady who regards that sort of art with any favor," the Prince remarked. "They seem to prefer Michelangelo or Rafael. Do you paint?"

"I do, in fact, when I am able," Dalena replied, warming even more to the fact that that was something she could share with Edward.

Edward smiled at her, the dimple in his chin more pronounced. Dalena looked at him with awe; never had she seen anyone so handsome before, except in her dreams. Here was the ideal of her imaginings right in front of her!

"You will paint a picture for me, perhaps?" Edward asked hopefully. "I will give sufficient coin for it."

"I would do it for nothing for one more dance," Dalena requested.

"Done!" Edward said. They swirled to the enchanting music; Edward's preoccupation with a certain blonde haired, green eyed Angel forgotten.

When midnight struck, the Prince realized that his Angel had vanished just like the first time, and he held a certain flaxen haired, bewitching maid with eyes of clear blue ice in his arms.

"You will be at the next ball?" the Prince questioned, hoping she would say 'yes'.

Dalena wanted to agree, but her lessons in subtlety came to the fore as she found herself saying, "Perhaps."

Edward let her go, his expressive brown eyes never leaving her as he told her, "I shall wait forever if I must. Good bye, Magda."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Dalena smiled in the carriage on the way home. She was so full of happiness that she could hardly contain herself. When she, Griselda, and her mother reached the chateau, she waltzed to the imaginary music, remembering all she and the Prince had discussed.

In her room downstairs, Cinderella slept, dreaming about Prince Edward. She saw herself having a picnic with him under a willow tree. As she handed a piece of pie to Edward, he took her tenderly in one of his arms, whispering words of friendship in her ear. Although she liked what her dream prince had told her, the Little Cinder Girl found that he did not move her the way she wanted. She went to a swing and, gaining momentum, swung back and forth. Edward joined her, pushing her swing even higher, but then her swing came down without her in it.

_Angel! _Dream-Edward called looking for her, _have you returned to heaven? _Edward then lost interest, going to a musical affair with drums that she heard in the distance. Cinderella ran after him. Before she got very far, a hand snaked out in front of her, pulling her back to another tree.

_Where do you think you're going…__**Angel? **_A voice mocked behind her. He covered her eyes as he played a game with her, but Cinderella knew the sound of his siren's song.

_Trillion! _Dream-Cinderella exclaimed.

_Within earshot, bella mia! _Dream-Trillion said. He planted a wet, passionate kiss on her that left her breathless. On her bed, Cinderella felt her heart beat with excitement as the dream-fey took her in his arms. She arched her back as she felt his touch everywhere; so sensitive was she to him.

_You are mine, and I love you always, _Dream-Trillion told her.

_Always, _her dream image breathed.

She let him carry her above the clouds. The dream changed to a magic kingdom, where their union was applauded, and the Fey King joined them together in matrimony. As he bent to kiss her again, the dream dissolved, leaving the Little Cinder Girl with a smile on her full lips.


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

**A/N: This chapter is slightly edited. In this chapter, Trillion has some disturbing tidings to tell Cinderella and we see more of Max.**

XXXXXX

When the coach with the step mother and step sisters pulled off, Cinderella could hardly contain her excitement as she waited eagerly for Trillion to provide the accoutrement as he always did for the third ball. She was also amazed and astounded at how everything had worked out. Her step sister, Magdalena, got on well with Prince Edward at the last function. In turn, that left her free to pursue Trillion since, in the Little Cinder Girl's mind, if Dalena _was_ to be the Prince's bride she would be available to be the fey's bride.

_The fey's bride, _her mind echoed, as she thought about the dream she'd had last night.

She smiled and hummed to herself as she washed using the pot in the fireplace in the cellar she lived in. There was a knock on the door. Once she'd gotten dressed, Cinderella opened it, smiling broadly, but then her face fell when she saw an older man at the entrance. Like Trillion, he had a hood and cape; unlike the young fey however, the older man's eyes were brown, and he wore a much more serious expression. His chin was more pronounced, and his face had many more wrinkles. He removed his hood, revealing wavy, snowy white hair. His ears were similar to Trillion's; they were pointed, like an elf's. He took in the Little Cinder Girl's pout as he made his way to a chair.

"Greetings, Ashenputtal," he said in a deeper, baritone style voice in comparison to Trillion's tenor.

"Ashenputtal?" Cinderella repeated.

"It is the German variation of your name." The man answered.

Without thinking, Cinderella said rapidly, "Trillion never calls me that. He calls me 'bella mia'".

"I am not my student," the man replied dryly.

"Who are you then?" the Girl of Cinder and Ash asked.

"My name is Maxiflucorocofalipatoryan, but you may call me 'Max'. Everyone does," Max said, shrugging.

Cinderella tried to smile, but the grin didn't reach her green eyes. "Why didn't Trillion come instead?" she wanted to know.

"He got reassigned," Max said, pulling out a huge stick resembling a tree branch. She stared at the stick, which she surmised was probably Max's wand. Max looked around the room, searching for an animal.

"Do you have mice?" he asked. Cinderella gestured outside, and she and the older fey left the chateau's dungeon.

"We have field mice out here," she explained. "Why do you want one?"

"I am going to turn one into a horse," Max told her. They searched until they found one which was white, with black eyes. Max waved his stick three times around the mouse, and it grew, changing its shape into a horse, complete with a harness. He repeated the same gesture with three other mice.

"Do you have a pumpkin?" Max queried, looking for one in the forest.

Cinderella entered her quarters and exited with one a few moments later. "But what about the odor?" she inquired, thinking about Trillion's comments.

"You needn't worry about that. I can eliminate the smell," he told her. It had been on Cinderella's mind to say, "Trillion could not do such a thing", but she kept silent, thinking that her remark would not be welcome. She waited for Max to wave his wand around the pumpkin. Max did with very little fanfare or gesturing, and she found herself comparing him with Trillion. The fey who'd captured her heart wasn't quite so perfunctory in his magic. He amused her with his ability to be unconventional, and she was comfortable with him, even when he was angry.

Max turned back after creating a white coach. Cinderella had to admit: it was beautiful. It was crafted from the finest wood and metal, and was circular in shape, covered with a top which was different from most open coaches in her community. The bottom of it had little stairs with a grip one could use to climb up into it. Although that could be seen on some coaches, only the wealthiest people could afford them. The wheels, four in all, were huge, with tiny spokes in them. The windows were liked stained glass, similar to Trillion's wings but with more polish.

Despite its opulence, however, the Little Cinder Girl decided she wouldn't have minded a giant swan to take her to the ball. Max surrounded her with his wand, and she felt her common attire changing into a matching gown. The white gown had puffed sleeves, with a square necked, slightly low décolletage. The skirt was a full one, branching out like a perfect bell. She lifted her legs to see the thinnest of stockings on them, and on her feet were glass slippers. Her hair was coiffed to perfection; a tall white powdered wig covered her head as was the fashion for women of sophistication and taste. There was a little comb in the front of it in the shape of a butterfly. It was golden, and it complemented the tiny pearls in her wig.

"Although I designed the gown, the powdered wig and the papillion comb you wear in your hair, Trillion provided the slippers of glass. He wanted you to have them, if that should please you," Max said, having guessed that Cinderella was depressed.

"I appreciate it, and I am grateful for all that you, and he, have done for me," she said, dipping a little.

Max waved her off, saying, "Your thanks are appreciated but not necessary. I suppose I do not have to tell you that at midnight everything changes back to its original state."

Cinderella shook her head, saying, "No, you do not."

Max regarded her, advising, "You know you must do everything to win the Prince. It is your destiny."

He didn't add that she needed to forget Trillion, that it was best for all concerned if she did. The older fey provided finishing touches for her: a bullfrog turned into a footman who helped her into the coach and a bird who became a driver. When the coach pulled off, Max prayed to whatever gods there were that every action that had been taken would work out for the best. He waved his wand and disappeared.

XXXXXXX

At the ball, the Prince was dancing with a Duchess who stepped on his feet at every opportunity. After the dance, the people applauded, and Prince Edward went to sit down to give his feet a chance to recover. He looked at the women, searching for Magdalena, when a magnificent sight captured his eye.

He saw her come in, her dress gleaming as she was bathed in light. She almost had a halo effect around her and looked to the Crown Prince as though she were a real angel. On the sides of the ballroom, Griselda and the Step Mother glared at the mysterious maiden with envious eyes. Magdalena, for once, didn't look jealous, but fearful. She felt her heart coming to the edge of a great abyss. Depending on the Prince's decision, her heart would be pulled back from it and she would have her ever after, but if he succumbed to this maiden's charms, her heart would fall in and it might never recover.

_I have fallen for him, _she mentally realized. _I love him! _

Dalena decided then and there, however, that if this maid was what was best for her Edward, she would not try to seize him, but she would step aside to let him be happy. She watched as Edward walked toward the maid as though he were hypnotized. Her eyes watered; her heart was tumbling over the chasm.

"Hello," Edward greeted, taking Cinderella's hand. He stared at her for a long moment before he recognized her.

"Angel?" he breathed. "You are a vision." He took her to the middle of the dance floor and they waltzed to a piece from Tchaikovsky's _Nutcracker Suite._ For both of them, time stopped as they gyrated to the music. When it was over, Edward took Cinderella into another section of his expansive garden. He plucked three red roses from a bush and handed them to her. The Little Cinder Girl took them gratefully.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here tonight," he told her. Before she could ask 'why not', Edward anticipated her question, and he replied, "We didn't exactly see eye to eye on things the last time."

"There is an old saying that 'opposites attract', isn't there?" Cinderella asked.

The Crown Prince smiled as he said, "Yes. I have heard that mentioned." He took her hands in his, and they walked toward a gazebo framed with ivy leaves.

"I wonder: would you be averse to visiting me after the ball? I would love for my parents and grandmother to get to know you better," Edward invited.

Cinderella was intrigued. She had dreamed often about a chance to get to know a Prince—any Prince—as a potential love interest. Her bubble burst after a moment, however, when she realized that although she was still interested, her heart wanted to go in a different direction.

"What's the matter?" Edward asked.

"I…can't explain it," Cinderella said. She thought a moment before asking, "have you ever gotten to a path that cut off in two different directions and you wanted to follow both, because both roads looked equally compelling, but you could only follow one?"

Edward looked at her for a long moment and understood completely as he realized that he felt the same way. He liked what he saw, even to the point of possibly courting the maid beside him, but another woman with ice blue eyes and a soft voice also stirred him.

"I understand completely," he told her, exposing his innermost thoughts. "I am having similar views."

The Little Cinder Girl didn't tell him that she had guessed that from the way he had regarded her step sister Magdalena that there were unresolved issues between the pair.

"If there is any doubt about accepting my offer," Edward said, "I will not be angry." He led her back to the ballroom entrance, saying, "I will wait inside. Let me know when you have made a decision." He turned away, walking in slowly.

"I will," Cinderella promised, glad that he had offered her a choice. She strode back to the gazebo and sat down, thinking. Finally, she came to a decision, and she wished that Trillion could be there.

"We _must_ stop meeting like this," the magic man's voice said all around her. Cinderella looked and saw him in the farthest corner of the gazebo.

"I was hoping you would come," she whispered, going to him. Instead of embracing her, the young fey stood where he was.

"You could have blown the wooden whistle I gave you," he reminded her.

She felt her pockets suddenly, then told him, "I don't have it in this dress." They looked at each other for a long moment, and then the fey spoke.

"Did Max tell you I was reassigned?" he asked, breathing in her scent of wild flowers.

"He did," she responded. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he admitted. He then violently shook off her effect on him, saying, "I don't know what made me say that."

Cinderella smiled, hugging him again, her hands caressing his wings. "Yes, you do," she said knowingly. "I discovered the truth myself tonight for the first time in my life."

"What is that?" Trillion asked.

"The truth is this: I love you, with all of my heart, with all of my soul," she answered simply. _And you love me, _she mentally added, waiting for him to verbalize her thoughts.

Hating what he was about to do, Trillion's never blinked, but stared at her as he said calmly, "Oh, do you?"

"Yes," she said, adding, "and if my step sister marries Prince Edward, then that means…"

"That you shall find another Prince," Trillion finished for her, "and you will become his bride!"

Cinderella shook her head vehemently, saying, "No! I don't want another Prince! I want _you!"_

Trillion bowed his head, saying softly, "You don't really know what you want, but whatever it is, it's not me."

"Yes, it is what I want: a life with you," Cinderella insisted.

Trillion began pacing as he told her, "No, no, you don't want that."

"Why not?" Cinderella asked.

Trillion stopped pacing and glared at her. "Let's start with the basics, shall we?" he almost snapped. "Number one: you are a human, I am a fey. I am always on the go, never able to commit because I never stay in one place long enough, which is part of what I am. Humans want stability, and I can't ever give you that."

"I do not wish stability," Cinderella was saying, but Trillion continued his tirade.

He said, "Number two: my life span is at least twice as long as yours is. You would die long before I would. Number three: let's say number one and number two are not factors. You would want children, and I am not sure a union between us could produce them."

Cinderella said just as fierce, "We can always secure children by other means! Many married woman have children without bearing them. Maybe there can be some magic cure for my aging…something that will extend my life."

Trillion went on, oblivious to her. "Number four, and the most important reason of all…" he paused for dramatic emphasis and then spoke grimly, "I do not love you."

Cinderella gasped, then her eyes widened as she absorbed his words. "You are _lying_!" She finally shouted, her facial expression conveying denial. Trillion tried to comfort her, but she stormed away to the other side of the gazebo.

"It isn't true!" She protested. "You held me in your arms! We felt a connection, I _know_ it!"

"I held you in my arms, and I felt something for you…I still do, but I can be fond of you, and still not _love_ you," he said simply, adding, "at least, not the way you want."

Trillion thought about what he had just said. What was love? He wondered. He really did not know all the particulars of it yet, so in his mind, he was not sure if he loved her, or if he ever could.

Cinderella started crying as the hand on the clock inside the ball room came closer to the midnight hour.

"Your kisses told me otherwise," she said in a small voice. It took all of Trillion's self control not to turn blue with melancholy; so wrapped up in her sadness was he. He materialized a handkerchief and gave it to her.

Cinderella wiped her nose pleading, "You could see the Fey Queen, petition her on our behalf! I know that she would not turn us away! Our being together is unprecedented, but I am willing to take the risk…"

"You don't even know what consequences you'd suffer!" Trillion yelled. "You're just a _client, _and my mission to help you is _over!_"

He flew to Cinderella, hovering over her as he spoke his next words. "You probably thought I had been reassigned by the Fey Queen, or by Max, but I requested reassignment because I thought it would be best, rather than being with you one more time," he told her.

Cinderella felt her momentary sadness evaporate as she became angry. "Then is that what you wish?" she asked. "_Never_ to see me again?"

"I do," the fey said, thinking, _not if it's this painful; not if I feel this way._

The clock struck: midnight had come. As the first, then second bong sounded, the Little Cinder Girl sniffled; then silent, angry tears ran full force down her cheeks. She ran away from Trillion; away from the one being who had made such a positive impact on her life. As the clock continued to bong from inside the ball room, the Prince saw her running. Others paid little attention, except for Magdalena.

"Angel!" he cried, but Cinderella kept running. Prince Edward followed her, bounding down the stairs. Magdalena followed him and saw him stop as he spied the tiny glass slipper on the stairs. Dalena looked up and spotted a girl in a tattered dress with matted darker blonde hair running down the road. Her eyes lit up with recognition, but she said not a word as the Prince was picking up the slipper and examining it. Cinderella didn't stop until she reached her home, her hopes and dreams shattered.


	12. Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

**A/N: Just a quick disclaimer that, while the description of the character of the Fey Queen and certain mannerisms are mine, the name "Sherlyndria" is borrowed from the movie "Willow", which I don't own. **

**This chapter is edited. I still am not sure about this one, but here it is. Hope you readers enjoy it. In this, Magdalena tells Cinderella the facts of love and Trillion's lusty, capricious side comes forth. The secret of Trent is also revealed.**

The pre-dawn hours called to Max as he walked through the magic forest a few days after the ball. Although it was generally his favorite time of the day and he usually was happy when he took his morning constitutional, the magic mentor was worried. He pondered his student Trillion as he felt the soft green grass beneath his feet.

A small light winked on beside him. Max stopped and watched as it grew and illuminated everything where he stood. He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the light change into his monarch, the Faerie Queen, Sherlyndria.

The Queen shook out her titian tresses, which had strands of black in them. Huge flowers were running throughout like a decorative ornament. Their petals were hot pink and white, and they resembled lilies. Her gown was an off white and had glittering tiny silver beads in it. Her skin was pale and glowed with the warmth of the sun, and her eyes were an indescribable color—almond shaped eyes set in a heart shaped face with tiny, elfin ears. At only five foot two, she seemed to be almost child like, but at other times, she appeared for all of her youthful looking appearance to be older than mere human years could measure.

When one was in the Queen's presence, Max knew, one not only bowed, but kept one's head lowered until the Queen gave them permission to raise it. Max bowed and dipped his head respectfully so that he did not see her face.

"Greetings, Maxiflucorocofalipatoryan," the Monarch told him. She tipped his head up. "So, you have sought an audience with me alone," she said. "What doest thou wish of me? I give thee permission to speak."

"I thank thee, my lady," Max said, bowing yet again. The Queen waved him off and they walked to some rocks that she turned into a throne and a non descript looking chair which faced it. They sat down in their prospective seats.

Max chose his words carefully as he asked his favor, "I ask my Queen this boon not for myself, but for my charge, Trillionanaoscapie."

The Queen pursed her lips. She had heard about Trillionanaoscapie's first mission and about his colorful way he had assisted the human Cinderella. She had also heard about the separation they had had. Although Sherlyndria could anticipate Max's request, she waited patiently for him to speak it.

"My apprentice is so distraught. He performs his duties as well as ever, but the song in his heart has gone. When he does speak, he either does so in a monotone or he is antagonistic toward everyone! I realize that it might take some time to recover from his separation from his first client, but I have been consulting the tapestries and parchments. They seem to point to the fact that there is something more than just a simple infatuation with the human girl on his part," Max told the Queen.

The Fey Queen considered what Max had said. "You know this to be certain?" she asked, curious.

"I am not sure," Max responded. "The signs are not definite, but if there is something there, would it be right to deny this union?"

When the Queen failed to reply, Max pressed his point, asking hopefully, "Would the Heavens or the Earth be disturbed irreparably if we structured them to accommodate a match between a human girl and a young fey?"

The Queen's eyes glowed frightfully. Max shrank back, realizing he might have doomed the pair without wishing to. "You know better than to ask that question," she said sharply. "The Heavens and the Earth give us our powers! Their proclivities dictate our actions and, consequently, govern our laws! We are, and ever will be, in harmony with them because we do not interfere with that which has been Ordained by the natural order of things."

"But…" Max started protesting. The Queen shot out of her throne, storming over to the fey tutor.

"You know as well as I do that the Laws of Ordainment can never be altered!" She shouted. "I have seen my husband's tomes, outlining your pupil's and the human girl's futures. The book clearly states that a male of great importance will wed the Girl of Cinder and Ash at the appointed time! This prophecy can never be changed!"

"Of course," Max replied sadly. "I just thought…" Max stiffened, saying, "Forget I asked my request."

Sherlyndria felt a moment of pity for Max as she told him, "No, I shall not forget. I know your heart lies with your protégé's, and it does you credit that you care for Trillionanaoscapie so much. But the Book of the What Will Be is clear in this, and we cannot disturb all of what will be to suit the desires of two beings."

"I understand, and I beg thy forgiveness in asking such a favor, my Queen," Max responded, with tears in his brown eyes.

"I truly am sorry," the Queen said softly, "but the Laws of Ordainment must be upheld." She dematerialized, the chair Max had sat on and the throne returning to their original state.

"They will find the proper mates to share their lives with in time," the Queen's voice said on the wind.

As Max saw the sun peaking over the forest's trees, he whispered to no one, "But will they be happy?" Max walked on, his feet dragging his sorrows through the forest.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Magdalena went in search of Cinderella the morning after the last ball, her countenance somber. She spied the object of her focus in the kitchen, preparing to wash some dishes. The Little Cinder Girl pumped some hot water into a bucket. After pumping a little cold water into the hot water to cool the temperature, she carried it over to another bucket with cold water and grabbed some soap and a cloth. She scrubbed the first plate so vigorously Magdalena thought Cinderella's hands would drop off from the effort. So intent was she on her task that she did not see Dalena silently regarding her. Tears fell down from Cinderella's eye. She angrily banked down her anger and sadness and dried the plate.

Before she started on the second dish, The Little Cinder Girl heard her step sister behind her. "Is something wrong?" Magdalena wanted to know. Cinderella turned around, staring at her step sister. She swiped furiously at her tears as she turned back around.

"I have something in my eye," she told Dalena. Ashenputtal stared at the plate then put it to the side.

"Is something _wrong?_" Dalena repeated more forcefully.

"What makes you think that?" Cinderella asked, her voice angry. She selected a cup and tossed it in the bucket of hot water. Dalena watched her lift it out of the water and scrub the cup within an inch of its life.

"The lack of singing," Dalena said simply, grabbing the cup from her step sister's hand. Cinderella gave her a confused look.

"What?" she asked.

"You always sing early in the morning," Dalena explained, setting the cup in the now-warm water to rinse it off. "In fact, when I rise, your voice is the first thing I hear. It is quite soothing to me. I cannot sleep anymore without it. This morning, for the first time, you did not sing. It is most disturbing."

"Well, please forgive me, but I am not in a singing frame of mind," Cinderella snapped.

"You need not take that tone with me!" Dalena snapped back. She looked at her step sister; the Girl of Cinder and Ash looked as though she had not slept well. Cinderella was hunched and her shoulders drooped as she scrubbed a wooden spoon. Dalena dried the now cleaned cup with the second towel.

"I am sorry," the Little Cinder Girl said, not really sorry at all. Dalena's eyes filled with sympathy. She knew that Cinderella was really hurting over what had happened with Edward. The flaxen haired girl mulled over the options she had. Option one was to go be with Edward, and good riddance to her family. Option two was to tell Edward about how Cinderella felt and let nature take its course. Option three…well, she didn't want to think about option three.

"I didn't mean to snap at you," Dalena replied. After a moment's pause, she said, "Look, you did not hear this from me, but I believe you have a problem which has an easy solution. You should talk to him."

_I tried that! _Cinderella thought, but then decided not to give Dalena or anyone else in her family any more ammunition to tease her with. "No, it is better this way. I am not on the same footing with him, and he deserves better than what I can give," the Little Cinder Girl said.

Dalena violently shook her head, saying, "There is no one better for him than you! You would be condemning both him and you to a life of misery if you don't reveal and offer your love."

Cinderella regarded her, saying in a cold voice, "I do not know why you are so concerned about my feelings. You never were before."

Magdalena warred with her desire to tell Cinderella off, and to proclaim to anyone who would listen that she knew her step sister was the maiden who danced with Edward at the final ball. She would then gloat about her step sister receiving the fate that she deserved for taking Dalena's prince away. Beneath that, though, was another feeling of compassion and beyond that, empathy, for Cinderella's suffering, and Edward's.

The younger step sister realized that the Little Cinder Girl might have danced with her step sibling's Prince, but Cinderella had neither asked nor wanted to fall in love with Edward. In fact, until now, Dalena had never heard Cinderella speak a cross word to any of them, nor had her step sister ever complained about the back breaking chores that had to be done daily. Whenever Dalena or Griselda got into trouble, the Little Cinder Girl had either claimed that she didn't know what had really occurred when Dalena's mother pressed her, or she would hold her tongue until the step mother punished Cinderella for her silence by whipping her or making her do even more chores.

Dalena also knew that, in her own way, Cinderella had always been a companion to her; dancing with her whenever Griselda was in one of her moods and would not oblige, or listening whenever the younger step sister had had a bad day. Whenever Dalena wanted to play with someone when she was a little girl and needed a male figure to be her dream prince, Cinderella was always accommodating her.

Dalena had decided that she had taken from her step sibling enough. It was time to curry her favor. She knew however that Cinderella was still angry enough to not trust her completely, and she kept her voice neutral.

The flaxen haired blonde responded, "I have an ulterior motive. I want you to sing again so that I can sleep. You will not sing if you are not happy, and our family will suffer for it! So tell the man how you feel!"

Magdalena helped Cinderella wash and dry the rest of the plates, cups and spoons much to the girl's surprise. Cinderella's jaw dropped open during Dalena's wordless exchange and stared after her when Dalena left without waiting to hear a "thank you" from Ashenputtal.

When Cinderella left the kitchen to grab the bucket in the pantry for washing the piles of clothing she had, Griselda stepped out from her hiding place by the kitchen door. So, Cinderella was seeing a man behind their backs, was she? Griselda reasoned, and not just _any _man, but the Prince himself!

_But how? _Grissy thought. _Mother never allows her out, unless…_

Griselda thought about the balls, and the mysterious "Angel" everyone was talking of. The older step sister thought about how the Prince, while engaging her for at least one dance at the first ball, had waltzed most of the time with the other maid.

She had looked at the cut of the maiden's gown during that event, studying the style of her hair, and the shape of her face, hoping that maybe she could copy whatever style it was that the young woman used. Grissy had even seen the color of the maid's eyes, in relation to the gowns, to catch a glimpse of whether or not the maiden's orbs were the same color as Griselda's. That way, Griselda had reasoned, she could get the best materials which matched her own rosier complexion and her darker eye color. That way, she could insure that the Prince would notice her instead of the ethereal maid.

Magdalena's older sister felt the sting of inadequacy as she beheld the bewitching, green eyes that were the color of the ocean. She knew that she could never compete with such interesting orbs. But as she thought on those eyes now, she realized that something was familiar about them. They were eyes that Grissy had seen before, eyes in a hue that no one else in the kingdom had, except for…

Grissy fought back the bile in her throat as she realized that the maiden who was the Angel of the Prince's imaginings was none other than Cinderella.

_Mother will want to hear about __**this! **_The fat, red faced girl decided. She stormed out of the hallway and went straight away to her mother's chamber.

XXXXXXXXXX

Trillion projected his subconscious suggestions at Prince Edward through the faerie's magic mirror as he stared at the human male, making sure that the glass slipper the junior ruler had picked up at the ball was foremost in the prince's mind.

Unbidden, the image of Cinderella as she had run from him crept into the faerie's thoughts. When he had finished prodding the prince and dissolved the link through the mirror, Trillion felt himself turning blue, then a deep shade that was almost purple, with melancholy. He turned away from the now normal looking glass.

_You did the right thing, _the magic man's moral self told him mentally.

_If it is so right, _Trillion thought toward his conscience, _then why does it not __**feel **__better?_

_Because you are an idiot! _Another side of the faerie, his dark persona, argued inside his head. _She wanted you! And, like it or not, you wanted her! You have power beyond measure! You can take what you wish, without having to bow to anyone! _

"What of her human needs?" he wondered aloud. "What of her frailties, her aging, her need to create children?"

_Bend the magicks to your design, _his evil self tempted. _You know that you want her…__**we **__crave her! Make her yours! Change her into a magic being worthy of us so that she will be ours forever!_

As Trillion argued with himself, he suddenly realized that he was flying toward the chateau where Cinderella lived. He knew he should turn around and fly away, but as he spied her washing her step family's clothes from high above, he knew he could not leave. As her hands guided the dress she held in the basket filled with water, her rhythmic motions going up, down, in, out, the faerie's breathing slowed as he imagined those hands going up and down along his muscular back, kneading the kinks in it, stroking his skin.

He turned green with lust as another picture swam up in his mind, that of her taking her fingers and working them along the juncture between his…he dared not complete _that _thought. Her long, shapely fingers removed the dress from the basket, and she wrung the garment out, hanging it on a clothesline as she took another in her hands.

Trillion continued to allow his craving for her to build. He came closer and, seizing upon an idea, turned into a human guise that was familiar to her. Cinderella looked up as the shadow of Monsieur Trent loomed over her.

"Monsieur!" she cried, dropping the clothing. Trent scooped it up, putting it into the water filled basket.

"Thank you," Cinderella breathed. She broke the silence when she asked, "how did you get here? These are private lands, and not traveled much, if at all."

Trent smirked, saying, "My…conveyance is where you cannot see it. I practically _flew_ here in my desire to see you."

"But how did you know where I lived?" Cinderella asked, perplexed. "It is not exactly common knowledge." Trent took her hands in his, kissing each palm slowly, yet with the all encompassing passion he felt smoldering beneath. It was then that the Little Cinder Girl saw the desire in Trent's violet eyes. His rich, full lips moved to kiss her fingers.

"No more questions," he whispered.

"No more questions," she repeated, as his lips claimed hers slowly, methodically, totally. His tongue ravished her mouth, then sought the pulse at the base of her throat.

"Tell me, Cinderella," Trent half commanded, half begged, "does your heart belong to the Prince, or to another?"

Cinderella broke away slightly, saying in a passion drenched voice, "I…I…" She forced her mind to become clear as she whispered, "to another."

"Who is he? Tell me his name!" Trent insisted.

Cinderella's eyes darted back and forth. She did not want to tell the Monsieur that he had competition in the form of Trillion. Ashenputtal did not say anything as Trent continued.

"Your eyes tell you I am Trent," the man said softly, "but your heart knows differently." Trent took her arms and draped them around his shoulders.

"Open yourself to me totally," he instructed in a thick voice. "Say you are mine."

The Little Cinder Girl felt her mind drifting, then connecting with his as she opened her mouth for his kiss. Her mind banished all thoughts of Trillion from it as she continued to kiss Trent.

When they broke the contact, she said in his ear, "Yes, Monsieur, I am yours…"

Trent smiled, his eyes still filled with a heady desire as they dove for each other's lips again. Cinderella breathed him in, savoring the essence, the taste, the scent of—

The scent! That was what had bothered Cinderella ever since she had danced with Trent, and now she knew why!

"Trillion?" she asked, pulling away slightly from his kiss. She stared at a red haired man with diaphanous wings who had been wearing Trent's guise a moment before. He stared at her, his skin colored an intense green, and his eyes a dark hunter green. He looked angrily at her for breaking away.

"Did I say that you could stop?" he asked in an almost menacing voice.

Cinderella's eyes were wide with trepidation, but she asked in a calm tone, "What is going on? Why did you masquerade as Monsieur Trent at the ball?"

Trillion jerked from her, facing in the opposite direction and struggling to control himself. "I wanted to be near you," he said, "but I didn't want you to know it was I who danced with you at the second ball."

"Why?" she asked, still caught in a web of desire. Trillion's color returned to normal as she went on.

"You did not want to do something wrong?" Cinderella guessed. "You wanted everyone, including your superiors, to think you were just a human."

Trillion faced her again, nodding. "I thought my disguise would fool them, fool Max. I should have known better!"

His eyes were pained as he replied glumly, "I was not supposed to be there at all. I was only supposed to help facilitate your being with the Prince."

"But when you saw us together, you felt an overwhelming need to stake your claim on me, is that it?" Cinderella questioned, growing slightly annoyed. "You should have told me who you were, or left us alone!"

Trillion sensed her emotion, and asked incredulously, "Do I detect a note of anger in your tone?"

"You tell me," Cinderella responded. "One minute, you say you don't love me and aren't even capable of it, then the next minute, you act like a territorial, jealous suitor!" The Little Cinder Girl seized the dress from the now cold water in the basket and began to scrub it therein.

"I am not a piece of land to be staking a claim on!" Cinderella cried in a huff. She continued scrubbing until the faerie man knocked the basket down on the ground, letting the water and clothes spill out all over.

"I know you are not!" Trillion snapped. Cinderella's eyes blazed at him and would have melted him where he stood if they could have.

"No, I don't think you do!" she yelled. "You are a faerie and you are more powerful in many things than I, but that does not mean that you are allowed to play your games with me!"

"_What_ games?" Trillion roared.

"The games where you kiss me one minute, then back off the next. The amusements where you make me crave you, even make me love you, and then, when I declare how I feel, you tell me to just go grab any prince like a melon at a fruit stand without considering my feelings for you! You didn't even try to give my emotions, or yours, a chance when it came to us!" Cinderella accused. "Now you want me as your bed mate? I think not!"

"I don't want you that way!" Trillion declared. "I…". He broke off, wondering what he could have said in his defense, because she was right. He did have conflicting feelings when it came to her, and, rules or no, he owed it to her to at least be honest. He knew he hadn't exactly lied about his not knowing if he could love her the way she had wanted last week, but then he also knew that he didn't exactly tell her that he had strong feelings for her either.

"I care for you, Cind, in all of the ways that matter," Trillion spoke truthfully. "I do not know how to feel when it comes to you. Sometimes, like tonight and the first time I danced with you as Trent, I am insanely possessive, and other times, I feel extreme sadness when you are not there. Still other times, I light up with happiness when I think of you. I feel the most incredible passion for you!"

Trillion began pacing as he said his next words: "When we separated that last time, I felt as though I was a crystalline statue, without life, without hope, without joy. When we came together just now, I felt so alive, so…_complete!_ If that is love, then yes, I do love you." He stopped pacing and stared at her with his deep eyes.

"I am sorry for deceiving you earlier, but what I said before does matter, too," the faerie man cautioned. "You need a human man, and, although I can wear the shape of one, the fact remains that I am _not _one."

Trillion looked dejectedly at his brown boots, saying sadly, "Now, matters are worse because I came. You are right: I should have been honest with you, and I never should have played with your feelings! Staying away from you, even for a fortnight, has been torture to me, but I…"

"It has been torture for me, too, my love," Cinderella told him. The Little Cinder Girl caressed his cheek. His hand flew to hers, but he gently pushed it away.

"You have never felt this way before?" she confirmed. When Trillion shook his head, she told him gratefully, "I appreciate your honesty just now. Thank you."

Trillion returned his attention to the washing basket on the ground. He gestured so that it was in his hands, and the water was clean.

As he handed it back to her, Cinderella asked, "So, what happens now?"

Trillion sighed, saying, "I am sorry, but rules are rules. You still must marry a Prince, and I must help you get one. If Edward is unavailable, I shall get a new one to marry you."

"Why?" Cinderella asked. "You and I love each other. Such a love cannot be wrong!" Her eyes pleading, she asked as she had the last time they had been together, "I beg you again: tell the fey that you wish to marry me, even if it is only for a short while, even if we don't have children!"

Trillion's blue eyes regarded her as he said, "What I revealed at the third ball is only part of why we cannot be together. I have seen the Book of Ordainment, the Book of What Will Be. It states that you will wed a man of great importance! Notice I said, 'man', which means you will wed a Prince, or perhaps a King! Nowhere does that text say 'a _faerie_ of great importance'!"

"But the law could be changed, could it not?" Cinderella asked. Trillion shook his head.

"The Laws of _Probability_ can be changed. They are always in motion, always transient, and they depend on your actions and the deeds of others, but the Laws of Ordainment are fixed laws. They are major events that, if altered even a little, can spell cataclysmic disasters for all of human and faerie kind! That is why they cannot be rewritten!" Trillion shouted. "I am sorry, _my bella mia, _but you _must_ wed Prince Edward if he is the right man!"

Cinderella stared at Trillion, but instead of anger, she felt an overwhelming sadness like she had felt the first time they had separated.

"Will the wedding be…soon?" the Little Cinder Girl asked.

"I cannot tell you that," Trillion said. "But when the time comes, everything will be as it should be, and you, and all who are affected by the outcome will know."

"Can you make me _not_ love you, then?" Cinderella asked with quiet resolve. Though she was crying inside, her soul dying, no tears fell from her green eyes outwardly.

"I cannot," he said simply. "These feelings cannot be modified, but the ache they are causing both of us will ease with time."

The Girl of Cinder and Ash nodded, asking, "Will I see you again after I am married?"

Trillion forced a smile. "Who can say?" he tried teasing. "The list of people I must help is huge and varied. Perhaps I will be prevailed upon again to aid you." The magic man let his wings flap as he hovered above her.

"Trust that all of your wishes will come true," he said, trying to be brave for her. "I always do." He flew away as Cinderella's eyes never left his retreating form.

XXXXXXX

As Trillion materialized back in the magic cottage he and Max shared, the young faerie asked the mirror, _can it be done? Can our feelings be dissolved as if they had never been? I ask not for me, but for my love, Cinderella. Please, you must help me! You must show me the right spell to do this!_

_I cannot, _the mirror spoke in his mind without emotion.

_Why? _Trillion asked. _The magic energies have been tailored if it was best for the human involved before, so why not now?_

_Yours is not a simple union with each other,_ the mirror thought to him. _When your mind touched hers the first time, you forged a link with her, her thoughts, her feelings, her very soul, is bound to you, just as you are linked to her._ _That link cannot be undone. If you try, you and she will cease to exist, or you will become cut off from any feelings you might have. You both will be apathetic, uncaring, about anyone or anything. That will be a great disaster; that leads to the dark magicks permeating your lives and the lives of those around you!_

"The Book says that she is to be married to a man of great importance," Trillion mused. "Can that be prevailed upon to be not changed, but amended somehow?"

_Amending the book is not what must be done. It is, rather, your knowledge and the knowledge of those you aid which must be amended,_ the mirror instructed.

"What is _that _supposed to mean?" Trillion asked aloud, feeling himself turn red with frustration.

_It is not for me to answer, but for you to find answers by asking the right questions, _the mirror mentally advised. The mirror's pictures vanished and it became ordinary once more.

The fairy willed his anger into submission as he became normal looking. He considered what the mirror was trying to tell him and came to a decision. Trillion flew out the window toward the Western Province to the One who could answer his questions, or show him how to dissolve the link.


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

**A/N: Just a quick note to say that I have changed the "Glass Slipper" part of the world famous tale just a little. Cinderella and her step sisters are not in this chapter, but fear not: they are in the next chapter!**

**For those who read the original "A Slightly Different…" version of the famous tale of Cinderella, this edition of my story is greatly edited, and thus, is NOT like the earlier fic. Things are about to go AU and a certain character that was in the other edition has been removed.**

**Disclaimer: all quotes are not mine. Just letting you know; though the book I am using is in the public domain.**

XXXXXXXXX

Prince Edward looked on as the royal scribe wrote the proclamation about the mysterious maiden who would marry the ruler if she fit the glass slipper he had in his possession. He felt a moment's hesitation as he considered his feelings for the one called Magdalena. She was the woman who ensnared his heart, but the Prince knew that he could not hurt his Angel's feelings. Besides, although he and Dalena had many things in common, that alone was not a basis for marriage, or even for a declaration of love between two people.

For all the royal knew, Magdalena could have another man tucked away. He had heard of some women having more than one suitor vying for their hand in marriage. It wasn't as though he held the exclusive right to her love. Edward hoped, though, that if things did not progress between himself and his Angel, he could get to know Magdalena better as a friend and possibly a lifelong companion. He left the scribe, going to his room and staring at the glass slipper, the shoe that held his destiny in its crystal colored heel. The Prince stroked the smooth surface of the shoe, wishing and praying for the outcome he sought.

_Maybe the slipper might fit Magdalena as well as my Angel, _he reasoned. Of course, if it did, then he risked hurting two maids. _I wonder if one could wed my cousin, the Duke of Armyrah. He is desirable amongst many women…perhaps I could seek his aid, and let nature take its course, _Edward thought. He went back into the room where the scribe was putting some finishing touches on the parchment.

"Your highness," the scribe said in a cheerful voice, "I have finished it! It states that 'whichever maiden fits the Slipper of Glass shall on that very day be pronounced the Prince's bride'".

"You have done well, as always, scribe," Edward told the man with a self-assured voice. He prayed, though, that he would be able to wed the woman he wanted the most, and that he was a good judge of who would suit him as the best wife.

XXXXXXXXXXX

While Edward looked over the inscription on the parchment, Trillion flew on until he was exhausted. Never had he flown so far and so high before, but the young fae had to know if he and the Maiden of Cinder and Ash would belong to each other.

After what would have seemed to mortal men to be hours but were in fact days (for in the faerie's Time hours progressed faster,) Trillion found what he searched for.

Trillion reached the castle in the Western Province of Aramathea. He felt his skin tingling as he approached the mountain upon which the castle of HWHAK stood. HWHAK was short for "He Who Holds All Knowledge", a faerie man who was once a Dark King, in the days when Trillion's mentor, Max, was a young fey. But the Evil Monarch had long since reformed, and as penance, he became the Guardian of all of the Tomes of the Fairy Kingdom, most notably the Tomes Three: the Book of What Has Been, the Book of Ordainment, and the Book of Future Things.

Despite the seeming gloominess and the isolation of the Dark Castle, HWHAK could be a charming host when he so wished. Trillion had never met the former Dark Ruler, but the younger fey had heard that the Keeper of All Knowledge, as HWHAK was sometimes called, had a good heart. The Dark Castle did not have any luster to it; it was rather like a dark lump of coal against the brilliant blue sky. The younger fey let his wings carry him through the wind to HWHAK's wooden drawbridge. He glanced upward, seeing the red flags hanging over the openings of the structure. The flags were the only hint of color on the outside of the Dark Castle.

The bridge lowered slowly, its creaking the only sound in the silent edifice. Trillion walked inside, materializing a torch for light since there did not seem to be torches on the walls. Moments later, the young fey came to some torches on the walls. He rounded a corner, taking the path to where the throne room of HWHAK was. A shadow blocked one of the torches. Trillion cried out to it.

"Who are you?" he asked. The shadow gave no reply. "Whoever you are, I wish to see the One Who Holds the Knowledge of Three."

"I will take you to the One you seek," the low voice boomed throughout the hallway. "Come."

Despite his fear, Trillion followed the shadow. He found himself in a room with a black throne which displayed archaic symbols etched in white upon it. Like many rooms created by the fey, this one was sparsely furnished, since magic beings did not have much need for conventional things. There were two black urns on either side of the throne, and they were lit by a warm amber fire. There was a table, low and heavy looking, made of oak with a glass center. It was oval, and there were several parchments scattered upon it. Other than the table and the throne, the only other accoutrement in the room was a shelf which stretched as far as the eye could see with books on it. Trillion heard a sound like a scraping which grew ever closer.

His mind told him that the scraping sound was HWHAK. The young fey had heard that the Seer of All had suffered an accident, and he walked with a limp. Of course, that could have been false information, too. No one really had the whole story about the former Dark Monarch, so tales from as far back as anyone could imagine had been invented. Trillion decided to simply take things as they came, not giving into wild speculation. The footsteps grew closer.

"Ahh, it is the young boy, Trillionanaoscapie, is it not?" a deep voice asked.

Trillion saw that its owner was thinly built, almost like a wraith. The body connected to that voice had a long black coverage which was not a tunic, for it did not reach the being's midpoint, but it stretched over his whole personage. His face was covered by a black metallic mask, with only his chin showing from beneath it. Two slits were the only eyes gazing out of it. Gloves covered his hands, and from beneath the whole outfit, a black cape, somewhat tattered on the end, was billowing from behind him.

Trillion swallowed, saying, "Yes, I am." He tried not to sweat, but was failing miserably.

"I am HWHAK," the being said. He (at least Trillion thought it was a man given the voice), gestured to a table which materialized with plates of fruit and water on it.

"Please, sit," the mysterious fey said, his voice containing a hint of amusement. Trillion sat, and HWHAK did the same at his throne.

"Now, then…" he began, handing the younger fey a vessel of water, "tell me why you have sought an audience with me."

Trillion swallowed again, to which HWHAK replied, "come, come, young one. I am not a beast to devour you or rend you apart with fangs! You should not believe the tales you have heard about me, for they are just that: tales of wild accusation which have no basis in fact."

Trillion took a sip of his water, then said, "Forgive me, your Highness—"

"Highness I am no more," the older fey told him, "HWHAK will do, or one of my many other titles."

"Very well, HWHAK," Trillion said. "As I said, forgive me, but if I may be so bold: some of the stories are in fact the unvarnished truth. You were, at one time, a Dark Ruler, and some claim you suffered an accident, hence your mask and your impediment."

HWHAK bolted up from the throne; Trillion's eyes followed his every move. Though frightened, the younger fey could sense the mysterious seer smiling behind his face plate. "And," his deep voice echoed off the walls, "who do _you _say I am, young Trillionanaoscapie?"

"I believe that you are the One Who Sees the Past, Present and Future," he said. HWHAK nodded.

"I will tell you the truth of what I see," HWHAK said. "It is true: I am the keeper of the secrets of the past, present and future. That alone has placed a burden on me that you cannot imagine, a responsibility to see to it that your future, and everyone else's, is not compromised along with the past. Hold out your hand to me."

Trillion wondered why this older fey wanted such a thing, but he did as HWHAK requested. Suddenly, the younger fey felt his red hair standing on end as his body crackled with energy. Trillion's eyes started glowing. He felt like someone was stripping him of all of his knowledge, or perhaps making room for clarification and enlightenment.

The process was over in an instant, though the young fey felt as though he had been with HWHAK for years. The older, mysterious faerie saw the question in Trillion's now-glowing eyes before they returned to normal.

Astonished that his clarity had gone, Trillion said, astonished, "Is that all? I still do not have an answer."

"It is not for me to answer," HWHAK replied nonchalantly. "That which you need to know, my brash, young fae, is already there."

Trillion could not believe his ears! The Dark King was saying that he, in all his youth, had the answer, but that could not be. HWHAK sighed.

"You are not ready for the truth, I can see that," he said. "You will know when the time comes what should be changed and what should not. For now, trust that the elements of the Universe are on your side, and hers. Things will be as they should be, and all will assert itself correctly in the end. Until then, you should have no regrets. Be comforted. Trust that everything will be all right."

Trillion left the room in a huff, murmuring to himself. When he had gone, HWHAK considered what had transpired beneath his faceplate.

To himself he said, "That one is quite special, but if his desire to act rashly overpowers all…everything could be lost." HWHAK shook his head, trusting that the Grand Design and those who shaped it knew what they were doing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Trillion returned to Max's keep, the older fey was stirring a pot of venison for supper. He offered him a ladle full of the great smelling stew.

Trillion shook his head, murmuring, "Why did I seek him out?"

Max sampled some of the soup, then put the ladle back into the pot. "Mmm…?" He asked. "I did not hear you."

Trillion repeated, "Why did I seek him out?" Realizing Max didn't know what he meant, Trillion clarified, "HWHAK! He didn't answer my question." Trillion paced, his wings carrying him slightly above the ground.

"He told me to 'be comforted', and that the answer lay inside of me! What kind of gibberish is that, anyway?! It isn't as though I know about my _own_ future. I don't know if I will be with Cinderella!" The red headed fae cried.

"I thought you'd given up on her," Max said sternly.

Trillion landed gently on the ground as he eyed Max. "I…did," he admitted; then added, "sort of, but I wanted to be absolutely sure…".

Max put the venison stew into two bowls and gave Trillion some with a spoon. He accepted the bowl that time and ate. The older fae materialized bread and some water for his young charge. "It is good, I suppose, that now you know her destiny," he said.

Trillion took another mouthful of the stew, saying, "But that's just it! I do NOT know! HWHAK told me the answer lies inside of me, and that I must trust the Grand Design! How can I trust it if I do not KNOW what it is?"

Max told him, "I once read that 'faith is the substance of things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen'. It is in the Holy Book." Looking at Trillion with his serious, brown eyes, Max said, "trust in that. Faith and truth will guide you to the right answer when it is ready to present itself."

Frustrated, Trillion spat in a low voice, "you sound just like _he _does." He left the unfinished bowl of stew on a nearby table, telling Max he was going to his room.

Max sighed, hoping that something would give Trillion whatever confidence he needed to see that things were as they should be. He put both bowls in the washing tub when his eyes lit on a piece of parchment that had arrived earlier that day. It was a notice from a Mother Duck, who was about to have her duckling, and she wanted a faerie to preside over the hatching for luck and good fortune.

The older faerie smiled. Here was something that, given the long voyage to the duck's land, would take awhile…at least three days. It would occupy Trillion's time as a Matchmaker; after all, matchmaking could be between a mother and her son as well as Princes and Princesses.

Max began to make the preparations for the journey.


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

**A/N: the Step Mother is up to no good, and Trillion is busy with another's problems, courtesy of Max. This chapter is edited from the first version, just to let you know.**

The Step Mother ambled around the various stands and shops set up for her perusal until she found the one she had been looking for. Behind her, Griselda struggled to keep up with her mother's brisk pace.

"Mother!" Griselda wailed. "I'm tired and hungry, and I don't see why we're here!"

The Step Mother gave no indication that she'd heard her daughter. "So…" she said more to herself, her seemingly calm voice belying cold fury, "she wishes to be with the Prince, eh? How _dare _she!"

"Mother!" Griselda shouted, much louder this time. "Have you paid attention to anything I've been _saying?! _I need to eat something!"

The Step Mother finally regarded her daughter. She cruelly grabbed Griselda's arm and, ignoring her cry of pain, jerked her over to a store window. "Silence, child! You'll not get one bite to eat until my task is finished here!"

Griselda was mute, rubbing her sore arm as she followed her mother. Presently, they stopped at a glass shop, which pronounced that the persons therein could make glass into any shape desired. The girl looked at the shop in utter confusion, wondering what her mother was plotting. It was often frustrating to her; she never knew what her parent planned in that mind of hers, and it galled her that she possessed not one whit of strategy like her mother had.

After all, Grissy had been raised to want everything everyone else had that she could not; every luxury, every talent, and each time she found herself wanting something and not being able to get it, she grew more contemptuous of society and even her own family. She thought about her step sister, Cinderella just then, and how she'd like to pay the chit back for all the misery the Little Cinder Girl had wreaked on her family ever since they'd moved in with their step father, Paldrine, on Cinderella's seventh birthday.

At least, her mother had taken care of one problem: she had arranged for Grissy's step father to meet his untimely end, and for that, the fat older sister was extremely grateful. One less person in the world meant that there was less for Grissy to have to share and more that she could possess.

Grissy remembered how she had discovered her mother's duplicity. She had been looking for a new dress for Cinderella to outfit her chubby frame with, and she had come across an old trunk she had never seen before in one of the seldom used rooms for storage. The trunk contained a dress which, upon trying it on later, had fit her. As she explored the trunk further, she also saw a loose bottom. The very next day, her curiosity seizing her with a vengeance, she pried open the bottom carefully and saw a book.

Griselda jerked her head around to make sure no one, not any servants, Cinderella, nor her true family saw what she was doing. Begging off a trip to the farmer's market with her sister and mother, Griselda waited until they'd left, with the servants and Cinderella atop the coach to drive it. Taking the book in her hands, she opened the tome to her mother's crude handwriting and began to read.

_November 5th: I can't believe it has been done, but it has, and that sad chapter in my life that was that miserable excuse for a husband is now concluded to my satisfaction! Now that he is dead, he will not cause myself and my two precious angels any more trouble. Now, if only Cinderella could follow him to the hereafter..._

Griselda had returned the book that day very carefully so that it looked as though no one had disturbed it. She also placed the piece back into the trunk and, when her family returned, and Cinderella came to steam the wrinkles out of the dress Grissy had chosen, the older sister looked for all the world like she had not stumbled onto any consequential news.

XXXXXXXXXX

The older daughter jerked her mind to the present as she heard her mother call, "Griselda! Come here!"

Grissy followed her mother to a bench and a wooden slab on an angle in front of her feet. "Now, my good man…" the step mother said to a portly gentleman who took her daughter's large foot into his hands, "you will craft a slipper of glass just like this shoe!" The step mother took the remaining glass slipper Cinderella had worn and gave it to the glass tinkerer.

The man turned the shoe left and right in his hand as the step mother handed him a scroll with Magdalena's foot measurements on it. "You will construct a pair for my eldest daughter after you have measured her foot, and a pair for my youngest after these measurements on this scroll."

The step mother tossed a small sack of coins to the man, adding, "And, you will keep silent about this business."

The man took one of the coins out of the small sack and held it up to the light. He nodded his satisfaction and began to sketch an outline of Griselda's foot. As he painstakingly drew the outline, Grissy's thoughts returned to another entry in her mother's diary that she had read.

_October 30th: Imagine my excitement when I received word that my husband was going out of town on urgent business **today** instead of next week as originally planned! I sent my man to ensure the services of the driver who would cause his ultimate destruction. This man also was certain to fix the carriage which would transport my husband to the town of Shondechanze. I realize that writing this is not exactly the best course to take, but I love boasting about what is, in my opinion, my best plan to date! _

_The driver, a man of little consequence, was a drunken fool. Better yet, even when he was not drunk, he had not the training to navigate the treacherous mountain passes, which I am told was the only way to get to Shondechanze. I cannot wait to receive the tragic news of my husband's death…_

XXXXXXXXX

The cobbler sketched Grissy's opposite foot. The haughty step sister thought back to the day her mother, Magdalena, and Cinderella had opened the door to two men dressed entirely in black raiment.

"Aldemyne, wife of Paldrine, the Wine Merchant?" one of them asked hesitantly.

"Yes," the step mother replied, outwardly composed, yet inwardly impatient to receive the news she wanted so desperately.

"It is our sad duty to inform you that your husband, Paldrine of the 'ouse of Paldemine met with an untimely death late yesterday afternoon," one of the men said.

Cinderella's hand flew to her mouth. She spun around, away from the men and her step family. Her step mother and Griselda had paid little mind to her loud sobbing and they themselves shed no tears. Griselda had seen her younger sister out of the corner of her eye. Dalena was crying a single tear slide down her cheek, but then she stopped.

Inside, Aldemyne could feel her heart skip a happy beat as she asked quietly, "How? How did he die?"

"Carriage accident, milady," the other man reported. "His wheel was loose."

"We also have confirmed by some witnesses that the driver who was killed with him, a commoner named Alfred Denoument, was not a trustworthy soul," one of the men said.

"Whatever do you mean?" Step Mother Aldemyne asked.

"He often was involved in drunken routs, and he had not the skill required to drive such a pass," the first man said.

"But how could my husband have trusted such a man?" Aldemyne inquired. "I mean, would he not have known about this man's less than sterling reputation before accepting a ride from him?"

The second man shrugged, saying, "We know not why your husband trusted such a man. We shall, however, find out why and we shall report any findings to you if we can...".

XXXXXXXXXX

"'Tis done, milady. My sketch is of an exact replica," the glass blower and cobbler was saying. "I should have these ready within a week." The step mother tossed a larger sack to the man.

"You must design and create exact replicas of the slipper of glass within three days," she ordered. The man was aghast.

"_Three days?!" _the man echoed. "B-but milady! 'Tis impossible to construct something made of this caliber of glass within three days! _Six_ days perhaps…"

"Three days, and no more will you be given!" the step mother said, walking to the front door of the shop.

"But milady…" the cobbler protested in a weak voice. Aldemyne whirled on him and fixed him with the coldest stare he had ever seen.

"Three days, or perhaps you would like to return the coins I thrust at you, to say nothing of saying 'goodbye' to your reputation as a shoe maker," she threatened. "I have many that I know in this village! Imagine what would happen should I make known that you, the soon-to-be former glass blower and shoe maker, could not construct two simple pairs of glass slippers!"

The man hastened to assure his client. "N-no need for that, milady! I will construct both pairs and have them delivered by special messenger to your address by the appointed time!" he said.

Aldemyne opened the door, saying over her shoulder, "Good man! The address is on the back of the scroll I gave you."

The man turned over the scroll and, seeing the writing on the back, nodded. "Y-yes, milady!" When Aldemyne and Griselda left the glass store, the man clapped his hands, summoning his workers.

"Mes enfants!" the man snapped, showing them the slipper. "Do not do any other tasks! We have a huge duty to perform!"

XXXXXXXXXX

As Griselda and her mother took the carriage home, the older daughter asked her mother as she ate her pastry, "Why three days, mother?"

"Because it is four days' ride from the Prince's castle to the chateau, silly child," her mother said. "By the time the Prince and any of his party reach our domicile, all will be ready. We will substitute the false slippers for the true one! Either you, or Magdalena, shall wed the Prince!"

Grissy allowed herself a small smile between bites. Her odious step sister would be heartbroken; she might even end her own life over her doomed love affair. As for Magdalena, the older step sister was determined to see to it somehow that Grissy's slipper was the first one the Prince saw. Once Edward was married to her, she could arrange for her mother and younger sister to serve them in the kitchen, or even in the stables.

The older daughter remembered the day things had changed for Cinderella. Ashenputtal had not even had a fortnight to mourn her father's passing before she was told that she would begin a life below the stairs, and that she was no longer a privileged person in the chateau.

"You cannot treat me like that!" the tiny eight-year-old voice of Cinderella shouted. "This is my father's house!"

"Your father is _dead, _child! I have control of everything, as the law and your father's documents will attest to! But, you may choose your fortune: either you may have a comfortable home with us, and perform a few tasks to our satisfaction, or you may go to the orphanage, or maybe serve one of the knights in our fair kingdom! Take your pick!" Aldemyne said coldly to Cinderella.

"I've heard that the knights are _very _solicitous of young girls," twelve-year-old Griselda chimed in cruelly. "First, you will be broken in as a slave, cleaning their boots and what not. Then, when you have grown a woman's accoutrement, you will be broken in in a _different_ capacity!" Griselda snickered at Cinderella's confused frown. Ten-year-old Magdalena just stared at her step sister with an icy look, her pale blue eyes challenging Cinderella to offer one more protest, which the Girl of Cinder and Ash did do.

Three whip marks later, Cinderella did as she was told that day.

Her thoughts returning to the present, Griselda continued munching on her pastry as the carriage bumped along. She thought about how she had copied various passages in her mother's handwriting like she knew how to do. After all, Grissy thought as an evil grin crossed her face, one never knew when one might need such information to get one's own mother to do one's bidding.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"But why do _I_ need to be present at this birth?" Trillion snapped, pacing back and forth in Max's cottage.

"Because I think it will do you some good to be away from the Cinder Girl. She's consuming your thoughts too much, and you should concentrate on other clients," Max said patiently. "You don't want to be accused of favoritism in her direction, now do you?

"No," Trillion said sullenly, realizing Max had a point but not wanting to acknowledge it. He stopped pacing and regarded the brown eyed, older fae.

"What if she needs me?" He asked Max. "What if she needs _us? _I haven't seen the mirror of future things or consulted HWHAK's books, but if she gets into trouble and we're not there to help her...".

"What possible trouble could happen to her?" Max asked, hoping nothing would occur while they were gone. "She will, presumably, try on the slipper and Edward will marry her. All will be as it should be."

Trillion shook his head back and forth, saying, "I still do not like this business! One tiny thing, just like her leaving past midnight, could happen and everything could go wrong...".

Max put a consoling hand on his shoulder, saying, "Or she could marry Prince Edward within a fortnight and be quite happy!"

_But she is __**mine, **__not __**his! **_Trillion's mind screamed. He forced down his jealous feelings and dutifully told Max, "You are right, of course. She should marry the best human that she can, and in doing so, achieve happiness." He started packing clothes by hand and other supplies for the journey. Max smiled with satisfaction, saying to himself that he did the right thing.

He handed Trillion his white wand and took his own. "Get ready..." he ordered Trillion. Instantly, Max and Trillion vanished, flying through the air at top speed to Duckland.


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but I'm trying to work on some other projects. Anyway, here is a January present in the form of another chapter for you wonderful readers! Til next time, have a Happy New Year.**

**I also want to thank Prince Fire and Music, and those others who made suggestions on how I could improve my characters, most especially the Stepmother and the Prince. I may not use every idea, but I do plan on incorporating some. Thanks, and Bless You All!**

**This is an edited chapter, dear readers!**

Prince Edward John Henry III and the squire rode to the thirty fifth house that eve, hoping in vain to find the maiden who would fit the glass slipper the royal suitor had in his pocket. They had searched for at least four days, but to no avail. It seemed that every woman's foot was too large, and try as they might, they could not fit inside the shoes.

Edward yawned and stretched his arms. Yes, it was an exhaustive search, and yes, he was tired, but he knew that the maid destined to become his bride was out there somewhere. There were still several hamlets to cover. Because of that, and his unwillingness to give up, Edward would continue searching, even if it took months.

He pictured his angel stroking his hair and telling him that she loved him. Somehow, though, the Prince had trouble dreaming about her. Edward concentrated some more and saw a pair of light blue eyes in an oval face with a thin, yet comely frame. In the most honeyed of tones, and the sweetest of voices, the woman of his dreams told the junior ruler that he was the only one for her, and that she loved him beyond anything.

Edward stopped his horse and threw down his sack. He started opening it and he selected a burlap bag that had various materials therein. His servant mimicked his master's actions.

"We shall camp here," the Prince commanded. "Our search can resume in the morning." He pulled out a scroll with etchings on it. Looking at the position of the moon overhead, the junior ruler smiled.

"I shall catch something for dinner. You go with me and fetch us water," he told his aide. The servant got some supplies for fishing and gathering water and followed close behind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cinderella put a elderberry pie into the oven that night for the next day's desert and started cleaning the floor in her dungeon dwelling. She wiped her head to get rid of the dust she had stirred up when she became aware of a figure watching her: Griselda.

"Griselda!" the younger girl said. "I was not aware you were standing there. Is there anything you need?"

The fat, older stepsister looked at Cinderella with cold, dark eyes. "Yes, there is a service you can perform," she said.

"What is it?" the Little Cinder Girl asked.

"You will keep silent when the Prince comes to visit," the eldest girl said. Cinderella's eyes were confused.

"Prince Edward is coming _here?" _Cinderella asked, willing herself not to say anything further. She forced back the apprehension she felt. The Girl of Cinder and Ash wanted desperately to reveal who she was to the Prince, but not with all of her family being present so that they could deny her words or use other manipulative means to complicate things.

Oh, she remembered her talk with Magdalena, in which her stepsister told her to confess Cinderella's love, but if push actually came to shove, the youngest of the three girls knew what would happen more than likely: Magdalena would deny ever having advised Cinderella so that Edward's hand in marriage would be the flaxen haired beauty's.

There was also Trillion to consider. Although she was not happy that he had been rough with her the last time they'd met, she knew that he at least had some affection for her, and she had no doubt that given time, he would tell her he loved her. She needed to straighten things with him permanently before she could accept another's offer. Griselda cleared her throat loudly. The Little Cinder Girl regarded her usually red faced stepsibling.

"Why is he coming? Why did no one tell me so that I could make the cottage sparkle for him?" Cinderella asked, almost vexed at her family.

Griselda stormed over to the other girl and gripped her arm painfully. "Now, look here!" she yelled. "I do not have to tell you _anything! _You are little more than a servant, and not worth my concern."

"Then why are you here?" Cinderella asked calmly, not wanting to further incur Grissy's wrath.

Griselda leaned into where her stepsister was and fixed her with a venomous, damning stare as she uttered her next words slowly so that Cinderella would hear and recall every word.

"Because I know it all!" she told the dark blonde haired girl. "I know that you were the maiden who danced with the Prince at the ball. I know that you are the one he called, 'Angel'. I know that this—"

She pulled out Cinderella's glass slipper from her right pocket, continuing. "—is yours!" she finished.

Cinderella was calm, but inside she was feeling trapped. She wondered if Griselda knew not only about the Prince, but about Trillion somehow. Above all else, the girl knew that she had to protect her fairy love and her possible human beau from Griselda's machinations until she could figure a way out of the pickle she was in.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked her stepsister breathlessly. Grissy smiled.

"I want you to reveal nothing to his majesty about yourself. As far as he knows, you never attended the balls, and as for any resemblance you have to the girl he danced with, it is entirely superficial," Griselda instructed, adding, "if you do not do what I tell you, I will say that you attended the balls under false pretenses; that you only were there so that you could secure the Prince's favors and affections, and secure a place in his palace for his gold coins and his bed!" Cinderella gasped, her hand flying toward her heart.

"You wouldn't _dare!" _she cried. Griselda grabbed a handful of her foe's hair until the other girl yelped with pain.

"I would dare anything!" she said. "Not only that, I'll also say that you approached mother to have her figure out a way to get your father killed!"

"No!" Cinderella wailed. "No one could doubt that I loved my father! No one!"

Griselda raised a brow, but then smirked as she said, "Oh? I wouldn't bet on that! _Think _about it! You were angry that your father wanted to remarry, were you not?"

The look in her step sister's eyes told Griselda she had her answer. Cruelly, Grissy pressed on.

"Face it, Cinderella. You and your father had both been together almost six years, and now, he sought to destroy your happy home. So, you said to yourself that if you couldn't have him to yourself, neither should anyone else."

Cinderella started crying. How had Griselda become so vendictive? Grissy added, "But you couldn't do the job yourself. You were only eight years old, and how would you contract a person's services?"

"So I asked my stepmother to do it for me, and she obliged willingly in order to secure a greater fortune for us which didn't have to be divided four ways…" Cinderella finished in a weak voice.

"Now you're getting it," Griselda told her.

The Little Cinder Girl knew she had no choice for the moment except to agree until she could use the whistle Trillion had given her to contact him. She knew that acting rashly might make Griselda take revenge by snatching the whistle, and then, where would Cinderella be? They could possibly make plans at some future date before things got progressively worse; but for now, she had to appear as if she was beaten.

"I agree to your demand," she said to Griselda. "I will say nothing."

Griselda smiled and, satisfied that her work was done, went upstairs to get dressed. She reached her bedroom and put on her pantaloons. This was a masterstroke she had come up with that had even exceeded her mother's designs. Grissy could have just simply locked Cinderella away and secured the door, only letting her out after the Prince had left, but someone was always helping her greatest enemy. The Girl of Cinder and Ash could always escape and then tell her tale. This way, she would be silenced, and Griselda would have what she truly craved: power.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Trillion and Max boarded the Mystic, a ship that was bound for the enchanted kingdom of Duckland. The younger fae tried to keep his mind on his latest task that lay ahead, but a girl covered with cinder and ash continued to consume him.

_I promise this…_he thought to whomever was listening, _that we shall be together, even if I must fight all the heavens for her hand!_

Oblivious to Trillion's vow, Max pointed to the lush, green grass where the fairy kingdom lay beyond and said, "Ah, sailing! Look at the sights one can study, and what lies beyond! I have not been to the true Animal Kingdoms since I was a little boy, younger than you, in fact."

Trillion forced himself to concentrate on Max. He turned, asking, "Were you? What were they like?"

"Quite civilized in comparison to many human kingdoms," Max answered matter-of-factly. "At least, when the animals eat, drink, mate and defend themselves, it is either for sport or for survival, but never for malicious reasons."

Trillion replied thoughtfully, "Then, I wonder, what drove you to become a fairy who looks after humans?"

Max sighed, saying, "Because humans need our help most of all."

The red headed fae nodded in complete agreement. Max said, "Now, young sir, we will have no shenanigans here. The animals are very literal beings, and they don't go in for fairies who are unconventional, understand?"

"Yes, sir!" Trillion said, giving his mentor a mock salute. Max was not amused. He gave Trillion a withering look and admonished him to "control himself" again. Trillion murmured a more suitable reply and stared at the rapidly moving scenery, hoping that nothing would happen to Cinderella.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

King Edward John Henry the Second sat on his horse, thinking about his son, the Third Prince Edward. Through very discrete means, the King had discovered which houses Edward had visited to see which maiden fit the glass slipper he'd found. So far, his son was not having any luck. The King was strangely pleased. If Edward the Third, who had a tremendous head start, found the wrong girl and married her, the kingdom could be ruined.

That was something Edward the Second could not allow.

He signaled for his attendant to stop; then, he started putting the blankets down on the ground to set up camp. Fortunately for both of them, the weather cooperated. The moon shone brightly on a brook nearby, casting a bright light that both men could see by. Even more in their favor was the fact that Edward the Third had left a clear trail of hoof prints that were quite easy to follow.

The King hoped it would not be long before he caught up to his son. As he lay on the blanket, King Edward the Second thought about his only child and how he had been in a similar situation when he was but a young boy of seven years of age.

He remembered how his father, Edward Senior, brought him into the Meeting Room in the spacious palace for the first time. It had looked to Edward the Second like a museum. The paintings, which were encased in elaborate golden frames, were of all of his family on both sides. There were some portraits that went back almost 200 years from their condition and the style of borders surrounding each portrait. He looked at the one of his parents: King Edward the First and his Queen, Jane.

Edward Junior had come to this room on his own and stood at the entryway whenever his father had a meeting with other people, but he'd never come here to meet with his father himself. The young Prince had to admit: he was curious, and wanted to know what his father had in store for him. Was it time, he wondered, to present him with the crown and tell him about the practices one engaged in when they became King? Was it about—Heaven forbid—an engagement to a girl? Or, was it for his continued education in a foreign land where he could learn about different cultures?

Edward the Second allowed his mind to drift, fanaticizing about his rule when he would become King. Would he rule with an iron hand, he wondered as he waved his tiny sword back and forth. Or, perhaps, would he be the smartest ruler, using his brains rather than his brawn?

He also wondered who his Princess would be, since it was often the custom to betroth men of his age. Though the idea of kissing any girl was revolting—he _was _still a little boy, after all-he wondered if he would like the maid enough to at least play with her.

Edward the Second stood where his father pointed. "Wait here," Edward the First had said.

Presently, Edward Junior found he had more questions when his father arrived with someone he'd never seen before. The other man had totally grey hair, with white at his temples. On his long face were a beard resembling a goatee, and several lines and wrinkles. The stranger's robes were very stately, not those resembling his father's more simple attire despite his royal status. Apparently, this man stood very much on ceremony, in his fur covered, rich ruby red robes and gold covered breastplate beneath. A crown, very richly appointed, lay upon his head, with ruby red jewels and diamonds.

"Edward," his father bade him, "sit down." The other king's hand lifted up.

"No…" he said in a deep voice. "I would like to have a look at you." Edward Junior was a little afraid of this stranger. Just who was he, and why did he want a look at him?

"Go on," his father instructed with a much kinder voice.

When Edward did as he was told, for he could not refuse his father who he loved more than anything, the other King looked at the little boy turning around. He seemed to be appraising everything about Edward the Second, from his straight carriage to his hazel eyes; from his small chest to his dark, sable colored hair.

"He'll do," the stranger finally said. With a heavy sigh, his father and the other King shook hands.

"It is arranged, then," the other King had said.

Leaning into the other King's ear, Edward Senior said: "You know how I feel about this…" he told the other King hesitantly. Edward Junior heard his father as clear as a bell.

"You have no choice," the red robed King reminded Edward Senior. When his father turned his head away in shame, not wanting to face Edward Junior, the Prince had heard enough.

"What is this all about?" Edward the Second asked, his voice starting to rise. The richly garbed Monarch gave no indication of having heard him.

When the other King started walking away with a satisfied grin on his face, Edward the Second ran to him. Despite his father's command to stop, Edward Junior took out his smaller sword and pressed it to the other King's back.

By this time, his father was running and repeating, "Edward Junior, stop! I command it!"

"He will not tell me what I wish to know, father!" Edward Junior shouted, while, simultaneously, the other King spoke. "This does _not_ amuse! Tell him that if he harms me in any way that is a direct declaration of war!"

"Junior, let him go," King Edward Senior said.

Edward slowly lowered his sword, saying, "But…".

His father had caught up to him, saying, "Now, my son." Edward lowered his weapon and sheathed it. The other King exited, softly laughing as he boldly strode out of the room.

Frowning, Edward Junior said, "I am sorry, father. I did not like him! Who was he?"

Sighing, his father told him, "At the moment, this kingdom's benefactor."

Edward Junior could not believe his ears. "What?" He said. Now his father met Edward Junior's eyes.

"We are on the brink of war," his father replied. "And our kingdom of Aramathea is so small. We are nothing in size and resources to Gotelhurst. They have been our peaceful neighbors for a long time, but now, they want more."

His father walked over to a decanter and poured himself some port. Drinking it—and coughing, for he was not a drinker—Edward Senior said, "They wanted to buy our land and end our kingdom as we know it."

Edward ran over to his father and shook him. "But why, father?!" He cried in an anguished voice. "Why?!"

"Because some people are very avaricious," Edward Senior said. "They are not content to leave things be, they want more for their coffers. When his brother, King Marvin, was still alive, Gothelhurst was friendly and he was on good terms with us. But, when his brother became King upon his sudden death, he wanted more kingdoms to rule. This land lies between Phonecia and Casterborus, as well as several other places rich with materials. So, to keep the peace, I had to make a deal and think not of us, but of our subjects."

Edward Junior could have thrown a tantrum, but even at his young age, he knew he had been raised to be above some things. "Of course, father," Edward Junior said, meaning every word. "I understand, and I agree."

Edward Senior stroked his son's fine, brown hair. "I am glad you understand," he said. "Because, in order to secure our future as a kingdom, I have offered your hand in marriage to Princess Annibel of Gothelhurst."

Edward Junior blinked several times. So _that _was what they'd shaken hands on! This had to be happening to someone else! His father was lying, and Edward the Second was dreaming…that was it. No father, who had told him often of marrying for love, and who had assured him that his parentage had been the result of a love match, could agree to this!

"I will not, father," Edward Junior said, his little voice deadly serious. When the King did not respond, Edward said more forcefully, "I say I _will not!"_

"But, son, you just said that you would, and anyway, I have seen the portraits," the King told him. "She is quite beautiful!"

"Beautiful or not, I will not marry her!" His son said.

But his father grabbed him and in quiet words insisted that that was what he _must _do.

And so, the courtship began when both seven year olds were presented to each other the following week….

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Edward Junior's mind returned to the present as he held a paper in his hand. Yet again, Aramathea was threatened—this time, from the Eastern kingdom of Calderon. And, hating himself as his father had, the King knew where his duty lay.

"In the morn, we will reunite with my son, and we will persuade him to return with the right woman that he will marry," the King said with a confidence he didn't quite feel.

"Your Majesty, if I may be so bold…" his servant ventured as he settled down inside his blanket.

"What is it?" The King questioned.

"What if he refuses to do his duty?" The servant asked. The King read the paper again and closed it with its black seal.

"He _must," _the King breathed, "or there will be Hell to pay!" They both settled down to an uneasy sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

**A/N: Edward must make a decision regarding his fate, and the impact it will have on Cinderella. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable dialog, or any situations which might have been borrowed.**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Edward reached the Chateau de Paldrine the following morning, well rested and ready to continue the search for the maiden he was destined to marry. He gripped the fragile slipper in his hand, praying to the fates and any gods that were present that all things would work out.

It was a perfect day, the Prince had to admit. The sun was shining upon the lush, green carpet of grass. The flowers, having been drenched with dew drops from the Dew Drop Fairies, glistened as the sun shone its light on them. The sky was a brilliant, robin's egg blue; in fact, it was a blue that the Prince swore he had not seen in many a year.

Yes, the day _was _perfect. In fact, if the Prince had the aura seeing eyes of a fae, he would have said, _too perfect, _as if someone were trying to use magic to cover up horrible portents that were gathering in the clouds and the ground.

But the junior ruler had the simple eyes of a human, and as he made his way up to the grounds at the edge of the House of Paldrine, he knew none of what could be.

Prince Edward's squire's grey eyes darted nervously about. Some humans could sense danger, in the scheme of things, and this human was no exception to that rule. He let go of propriety to touch the royal's arm.

When Prince Edward turned, the squire said, "Master…let us abandon the search for today, or at least, let us go to another residence, for now."

Edward's chocolate eyes regarded his servant. He had known about the squire's penchant to sense trouble; that was why he had brought Montgomery with him.

"What is it, Monty?" the junior ruler asked. "Are there ruffians afoot?" The Prince drew his jeweled sword from its sheath.

Montgomery wildly shook his grey head, saying, "No, melord! I can't put me finger on it, but I have misgivings. I think something terrible is about to 'appen!"

His countenance grim, Prince Edward looked at the grounds beyond to see if he could spot anyone lurking about. No ruffians, nor any other folks were in the vicinity. The Prince then looked at the flora and fauna in the woods. Although his vision was limited, the Prince saw no dangers in the plantlife, nor in any animals. It was after a third gaze that the chateau caught his eye.

He saw a medium sized dwelling, with beige stones that were worn and not in good condition. The roof, which was constructed with white stones in the more traditional rectangular shape, had more than a few rocks missing. Although the patch of grass in front of the chateau looked as though it was tended, the carriage to the left of the dwelling was damaged on one side (though its door didn't look too bad, the junior ruler decided.)

He could see that the chateau had three floors—or four, possibly, since he also saw a red wooden door which was bolted shut. The red door was at the bottom of some stairs and those were comprised of rocks that were scattered about, making descent from the outside hazardous. The uppermost floor had an opening and it was not covered with any materials used to shield them from the elements.

On the whole, Edward thought, the residence could use a lot of improvements, but as for being _evil, _he didn't think anyone would have any malevolent tendencies toward anything.

Feeling immensely relieved, Prince Edward put a comforting hand on his squire's shoulder.

"'Tis nothing," he tried to assure Montgomery. "You are easily scared, I think. But, we need not stay long...".

Montgomery inwardly sighed. He didn't like this turn of events one bit, but there was nothing he could do.

"Yes, melord," he said.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Inside the chateau in their bedroom, Grissy and Dalena, along with the Stepmother and a strangely silent Cinderella waited for the Prince. They had heard amongst the gossip mongers that he was headed for their general direction, and that he was less than two hours' journey away.

Grissy looked bored with everything as Cinderella straightened the hem on the older girl's maroon colored gown; Magdalena looked scared. Suppose Cinderella spoke and convinced her Prince that she really wanted him?

Unaware that some other quirk of Fate lay in the air, the Little Cinder Girl was now staring ahead, wanting to tell anyone who'd listen about Griselda's ugly schemes and being forced to be silent, but Cinderella didn't know how she could do it.

_Trillion, wherever you are, do __**something **__to put things right! _She thought.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Away in the low lying hills of Duckland, a young fairy put the finishing touches on the meeting between the Mother Duck and her babe. Trillion concentrated, willing his magic spell to turn out all right, so that the baby duck who'd lost his way would be united with his mother. But as he spoke the enchanted words, a plea reached his elfin ears.

Turning toward Max, he said, "Did you hear that?"

Max shook his head. "I heard nothing."

"It sounded like Cinderella," Trillion said. "Maybe she is in trouble."

"So might this mother be if you do not finish your task," Max cautioned.

"But..." Trillion started saying.

"You need to complete this," Max advised. "I am certain that, if you heard her, the call was exaggerated. Besides, there are other faerie folk who can aid her."

Trillion wasn't sure he wanted other faeries, particularly male ones, attending to his client. What if someone else took his place in her heart (or at least in her thoughts)? He suddenly pictured the wrong type of fae helping her out: the type who was an evil, Toxic one who sometimes preyed on unsuspecting humans, doing favors in exchange for horrible deals that mankind could not afford to make. He wanted to be sure, to go protect her from all harm. But, he could not leave Mama Duck in a bind. Trillion focused once again on his magic spell, complex though it was, and set the currents and eddies that would take him and Max to the little duckling. Once that was done, it would be child's play to send it to its mother.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

At the chateau, Montgomery withdrew the lengthy pieces of parchment pronouncing the terms and conditions surrounding the trying on of the slipper. The pieces constituted seven whole pages, and the Prince envisioned a lot of yawning on his part. But Edward knew that everything had to be spelled out for the Stepmother as the guardian of the house, and for the young maids as well.

Monty knocked three times. The door opened to a middle aged woman with white hair and a haughty attitude. She quickly banished her usual expression however into a subservient one.

"Your Majesty," she greeted very formally, her voice deep and extremely reverent.

The Prince took her extended hand, his eyes looking briefly at the wrinkles that were on her pale fingers. Aldemyne regarded Montgomery curtly. The servant did the same. He was used to those who thought themselves above his station. He was thankful that Edward did not regard him that way.

The Prince's generous lips brushed against the fur cuff she wore below her wrist. Dropping her hand after a moment's pause, Aldemyne bowed respectfully.

"You honor us with your presence, your Highness," she said softly.

"Quite," Edward replied. "You may raise your head, Madam." The stepmother did so.

"Will you both come in?" she invited. Prince Edward followed her retreating form, with Montgomery trailing not too far behind.

"How many occupy this dwelling?" the junior ruler inquired as Montgomery fought off the sense of foreboding he had and pulled out the documents.

"There are three nobles: myself, of course, and my daughters Griselda and Magdalena, and an odd assemblage of commoners," the stepmother responded. Edward sat on a settee near the fireplace.

"Commoners...?" Edward asked, raising a brow. It was then that he caught a glimpse of Cinderella. "Serving girl, I would ask you what..." the Prince didn't get a chance to finish his inquiry, for Aldemyne responded quickly, "I mean that my servants are of common stock and not worth your concern."

When the Prince looked as though he would object, the Stepmother hastened to say, "I am certain you have more pressing engagements elsewhere after you have visited with us."

"I would speak with _all _eligible young maidens, Madam," the Prince reminded Aldemyne. As he regarded Cinderella again, a feeling of familiarity surfaced. "Have we met before?"

Her appearance was haggard. She had soot all over her face and dress, and her hair flew in every direction. Usually, Cinderella tried to keep her rags as neat as a pin and her one tattered skirt as clean as possible even if they were old, but she had been cleaning the fireplace that day. That chore always made her look more ratty than she really was. Because her face was covered with grime, Prince Edward did not know that she was the Angel he had danced with.

Not looking at her stepsister Griselda, the Little Cinder Girl said, "Nay, milord. It is an honor that I dream not of."

The Prince looked as though he were contemplating something about Cinderella, but just as quickly his eyes regarded the stepmother as he asked, "You said that you have two daughters?"

Aldemyne responded, "Indeed, I do your Highness."

She saw Griselda and Magdalena out of the corner of her eye. Griselda looked as haughty as ever, her garish colors making her rotund figure and her pink pallor stand out more than ever. The elder sister wore her orange, long skirt with its three buttoned vest proudly though it did nothing for her. Her hat with its plume was too small for her, and it made her large round face even rounder. In contrast, Magdalena's light purple dress was quite attractive, making her pale skin glow. Her long, flaxen tresses were slightly curled and hanging down her waist. When the Prince saw her, the hardest thing he did was avert his eyes.

"Lady Magdalena, is that correct?" he inquired, coming over to help her down the rest of the stairs.

"Magdalena, yes, but not a lady," she corrected. With a teasing expression, Magdalena added, "at least, not yet."

Montgomery cleared his throat, indicating Griselda. The Prince looked up at the older girl. "Forgive me, I did not see you." He apologized to her. "You grace this house with your presence, mademoiselle."

Griselda chortled but then fell silent when her mother gave her a stern look. The Prince motioned Montgomery forward, saying, "Read the parchment."

As the servant read the terms and conditions therein, the Prince withdrew the slipper. Cinderella's eyes were filled with longing at the sight of the second glass slipper. Though Max had presented her with it, the fact that Trillion had made it for her meant more to her than any other gift. She felt a moment of indecision; should she say something to the Prince?

"Your Highness..." Cinderella started saying. Griselda managed to control the look on her face, but her eyes told a different story. Her step-sibling fell silent as she caught the murderous thunder in the older girl's dark eyes.

Edward asked, "Yes?" When Cinderella said nothing, the Prince prompted, "Well, what is it that you wish to tell me?"

"I..." Cinderella said. She bit her tongue inside of her mouth to resist the urge to reveal everything. After the Prince turned away from her, Montgomery finished reading all of the conditions for becoming the Prince's bride. When he withdrew, the Prince tried the slipper first on Griselda.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Outside, the King's horse pulled up in front of the chateau. He sighed, knowing the task that lay before him.

Edward the Second saw the Prince's horse and gave it some carrots that he withdrew from his sack. "I wish I could be unaware of the sacrifices which have to be made in order to avoid war." He said, as he watched the horse eat. The animal neighed; the King petted it on its head, watching its tail swish.

"Let us get this over with," he said to Cumerbund, his servant. The older man secured the horses.

"Highness, must we really do this?" Cumerbund asked.

"Yes, my squire, yes," Edward the Second said. He knew that this news could undo every chance he had tried at having a relationship with his son, but priorities were priorities.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Inside, the Prince had finished trying the shoe on Griselda. The obese girl tried in vain to squeeze her foot into the shoe, but try as she might, it would not fit.

"Your feet are quite large, mademoiselle," the Prince said.

"Well..." Griselda said, trying to come up with an excuse, "it is the dancing at the balls! My feet are normally smaller, but they have swollen to twice their size! You can understand that, can't you?"

Her eyes pleaded with the Prince and Montgomery to understand. They went to Magdalena, however. She put the ornamented shoe on her foot, hoping that she was the right size. Moments later, she started walking, albeit slowly, as though her foot was in pain.

"It fits!" The Stepmother proclaimed. But Montgomery wasn't certain.

"Mademoiselle, is your foot paining you?" He asked. Magdalena gave a curt nod to the negative. Soon, however, she gave a small cry and the shoe slid off of her foot. Her massaging of it was all the two men needed to know.

The Prince was inwardly very disappointed, but he forced himself to rise above it. He knew he could not allow his personal feelings to interfere with the proclamation that had been made. Reluctantly, his chocolate eyes found Cinderella's.

"Lady, you would do me the honor of trying this slipper on," he said. Cinderella looked at Griselda, who moved closer to her.

"Remember..." she hissed in her step sister's ear.

Taking a small breath, Cinderella lied, "My liege, it could not be mine. I would not have been at an event like that."

Griselda piped in, "she's just a servant, an urchin, Your Highness! You would stain material so rich with a foot as common as _hers?!"_

The Prince said coldly, "The proclamation refers to _every _eligible maid." The other women waited with mixed expressions: Griselda, with anger that her plan was unraveling; Aldemyne, with a calculating expression as to how she could plot her way out of a horrible situation such as this; and Magdalena, with a pleading expression to the Fates that Edward could still be hers.

Eyeing a broom in the far corner, the Step Mother's eyes lit up with a plan. The Prince walked toward Cinderella, saying off hand to Griselda, "No maid's foot, whether nicely shaped or ill shaped, is common." He looked at her green eyes, and for a moment, her bedraggled appearance faded away.

"Do not be afraid," he said softly. As he got nearer, he failed to see Aldemyne's hand reaching for the broom. A moment later, Prince Edward the Third's legs shot up into the air and, before anyone could catch it, the slipper crashed to the ground, shattering before Cinderella could try it on.

"Madame!" The Prince exclaimed when he saw who had tripped him. Aldemyne assumed a look of innocence. The Prince looked helplessly at Cinderella, who was anything but distressed.

"Your Highness," she told Edward, "you need not worry. I gave the remaining slipper to my step sister."

Griselda sputtered, trying to figure out how to pay Cinderella back for this treachery. But she knew that eventually, the Prince and that dimwitted male servant of his would find out everything. Magdalena looked at her step sister with frosty disdain, but she didn't say a word. The elder sister reached into her pocket and gave the shoe to Prince Edward the Third.

When the shoe fit like a glove, Aldemyne, wanting to find favor in Cinderella's eyes, abruptly changed her tone toward the little Cinder Girl by saying, "Congratulations, child! I am so fortunate to have a daughter like you, for this is a blessing to all of us! We should celebrate, you and I!"

Before anyone could speak further, a knock came at the door. The Little Cinder Girl opened it to reveal the father of Edward and his servant.

"Father!" the Prince shouted. He waited until Cinderella came over to him and said, "You are just in time to meet my future bride." Though the Prince's tone was jubilant, his eyes told a different tale. It was clear to his father that Edward did not wish to marry the girl who fit the slipper.

"Your Majesties," Cinderella greeted, bowing. The remaining three women either bowed or curtseyed. When they had risen, Edward allowed a brief glance at the woman he loved. Perhaps, he thought suddenly, there could be a way to avoid a relationship with the wrong girl.

"It is good that you have arrived, Father, as I would speak with you privately," the Prince said. The King nodded, but before they could withdraw outside, Cinderella spoke up.

"Your Majesties, I wish to speak," she said softly.

King Edward II prompted, "Yes, child? What do you wish to say?" He saw sadness in her eyes but was not certain of the reason behind it. He said, "Surely you are happy to be my son's wife."

Cinderella tried to choose her words carefully. "I am very grateful for every kindness bestowed on me, and for having such a worthy royal person as my future husband. But, I am not certain that I would be able to accept such an honor at this time."

Aldemyne's jaw almost dropped. Did her step daughter just _refuse _the Prince's hand in marriage?


End file.
